Lost and Found

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “And that kind of insight is why we need you to take a real close look at the information in those printouts, Gardner,” Mack said. “You not only have the financial experience to make sense of the data, you’ve also got a different viewpoint.”

  Gardner rubbed the back of his neck. “You know, when you think about it, Stanford and Randall might both be involved in running those fakes through their company. If Austrey-Post is trying to cover up a cash flow problem, they’d both have a vested interest in making the bottom line look good for a potential merger.”

  “Stanford, maybe,” Cady said. “But not Randall.”

  “Absolutely not Randall,” Sylvia echoed.

  Gardner raised his eyes to the ceiling and said nothing. Mack opted for the diplomatic approach. “With any luck, those financial records might give us a clue about what is really going on at Austrey-Post.”

  Gardner, appearing far more enthusiastic than he had a moment ago, reached for the stack of printouts. “This is going to take awhile but I’ll see what I can do.”

  Sylvia turned to pin Mack with a searching look. “I don’t understand where you fit into this picture. You told us you were a business consultant. But you sound more like some sort of private investigator. What’s going on here?”

  Cady answered before Mack could get his mouth open. “Mack does a lot of consulting work in the field of lost and stolen art,” she said.

  Sylvia looked skeptical. “You’re a security consultant?”

  “Not exactly,” he said. “I deal in information. As Cady said, I trace lost, stolen and missing art and antiques.”

  “And what do you do when you find the missing items?” she asked coldly.

  “I attempt to recover them for my clients.”

  “How?”

  “Sometimes it’s as simple as arranging a negotiated buyback or a trade. Sometimes it’s a little more complicated.”

  “What it boils down to is that you’re a private investigator,” Sylvia snapped.

  “I think of myself as more of a go-between.”

  “Nonsense. You’re an investigator.” Sylvia turned to Cady. “You brought him here because you knew that something was wrong, didn’t you?”

  “I didn’t know for certain that anything was wrong,” Cady said defensively. “I just had a feeling.”

  “A feeling?” Sylvia groaned. “You sound more like Aunt Vesta every day. What exactly inspired this feeling you got?”

  Cady cleared her throat and looked at Mack for help. “It’s a little hard to explain.”

  “She thinks your aunt was murdered,” Mack said bluntly.

  Sylvia and Gardner gazed at him, dumbfounded.

  “Sonofagun,” Gardner said half under his breath. “Never even considered that possibility.” “Murdered.” Sylvia looked at Cady. “What in the world made you think that someone killed her?”

  “I don’t know.” Cady walked stiffly toward the windows.

  Mack watched her. “That’s not quite true.”

  She sighed. “Okay, I thought her death was a little too convenient.”

  “Convenient?” Gardner prompted.

  “Because of the merger,” Cady said. “She had let it be known that she was thinking of postponing next month’s vote of the board. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if maybe someone didn’t like the fact that she might be reconsidering the deal. Aunt Vesta was an unknown quantity. Unpredictable. Eccentric. And she had the power to cancel the merger altogether if she chose to do so.”

  “Do you realize what you’re saying?” Sylvia demanded. “Surely you didn’t believe that someone murdered Aunt Vesta just to ensure that the merger went through?”

  “Okay, it was a little over the top,” Cady muttered. “And as it turns out, I was probably wrong. If she was murdered, it’s far more likely that it was because she stumbled onto Jonathan Arden’s scam.”

  Sylvia tried to compose herself. “But the fact that the possibility of murder even occurred to you in the first place—”

  “Certainly didn’t strike anyone else in the family,” Gardner said dryly.

  Cady kept her face averted. She started to rub her palms up and down her arms. Understanding knifed through Mack.

  He straightened and went to stand behind her. He rested his hands on her shoulders.

  “It was because she drowned, wasn’t it?” he said. “Because you nearly died the same way that day at the lake when you were fourteen. That was why her death disturbed you so deeply and made you start asking questions.”

  She hunched her shoulders. “Maybe. But the crucial factor was the timing. I just couldn’t convince myself that her death had nothing to do with the merger. I never even considered the possibility of a forgery ring.”

  “If she had succeeded in exposing the scam, that would certainly have squelched all possibility of a business alliance between Chatelaine’s and Austrey-Post.” Gardner looked thoughtful. “I doubt if Felgrove could have found any other suitor to take the place of Chatelaine’s. Hell, maybe the merger does qualify as a motive.”

  Sylvia whirled around. “Don’t tell me you’re buying into Cady’s murder conspiracy theory?”

  Gardner shrugged. “Money has always been a motive for murder and there’s a lot of cash involved in this deal.”

  Cady turned around to face him. “Thanks for your support. At least, I think that was a show of support.”

  “Forget it. That’s what family is all about, I think.”

  Twenty-three

  The Langworth house was a huge, colonnaded affair perched high on the hillside. It commanded an even more impressive view than the one available from the villa, sweeping from Tiburon to the Golden Gate Bridge. Cady stood in front of the windowed wall of the living room and watched the sun dance on the bay. The light seemed to strike the water and bounce off, never piercing the surface. Or the interior of this big house either, she thought.

  The silence behind her grew heavier. The housekeeper who had ushered her into this room a few minutes ago had vanished.

  She turned away from the view to examine the vast chamber in which she stood. The looming hulks of a staggering quantity of art and antiques filled every space, seeming to blot up any available light. The brooding shadows locked into the old pieces cast a dark spell on the entire household. Maybe it was the solemn miasma of impending death that jangled her nerves. The stuff pooled like an invisible fog in the room.

  She felt jittery. Not a good sign. She glanced at her watch.

  “Thank you for coming here on such short notice,” Brooke Langworth said from the doorway.

  Cady jumped a little at the sound of the soft, throaty voice. She turned quickly. Randall’s great love was a tall woman with patrician features. Her honey-colored hair was arranged in a chignon that emphasized her taut, drawn expression. She wore a pale cream silk blouse and a pair of elegantly cut camel trousers. Gold glinted discreetly at her ears and around her throat.

  “I got your message,” Cady said. “What can I do for you, Mrs. Langworth?”

  “Please call me Brooke. Won’t you sit down?”

  Cady sank cautiously down onto the edge of the sofa. She hoped Brooke had not summoned her here for the purpose of getting a professional appraisal of the collection of old objects that were eating up all the light.

  “Would you care for coffee?” Brooke asked.

  “No, thank you.” Cady made a show of looking at her watch again. “I’m a little pressed for time.”

  “Yes, of course. I won’t keep you long. I realize this is difficult for you. It’s not easy for me, either.”

  Please don’t ask me to put a value on your collection. Your husband isn’t even dead yet, and besides, I don’t chase consignments from the nearly departed. But if that wasn’t why Brooke had called, there could be only one other possible reason.

  “Does this have something to do with Randall?” Cady asked cautiously.

  “How did you guess?”

  “Randall
is the only thing that you and I have in common.”

  “Yes, of course.” Brooke continued, “I asked you to come here today because I’m extremely worried about him. I know that in spite of the fiasco of your marriage, he is your friend and you want what’s best for him.”

  “To a point.”

  “You do realize that he is obsessed with a merger between Austrey-Post and Chatelaine’s?”

  “I know it’s important to him, yes.”

  “More than just important, I’m afraid. He is consumed by the goal of combining the two firms. I hesitate to say this, but I don’t know where else to turn.” Brooke paused, as though gathering herself. “I’m afraid of what he might do if the merger doesn’t go through.”

  Cady stilled. “What are you talking about?”

  “Randall is convinced that the merger is the only way he can gain control of Austrey-Post and rid himself of his stepfather. He hates Stanford Felgrove. I’m sure you’re aware of that. If the merger fails—”

  “What exactly are you afraid of, Brooke?”

  “Randall has been through a great deal of stress in recent years. The divorce was hard on him.”

  “It wasn’t exactly a piece of cake for me, either.”

  Brooke flushed. “No, of course not. I realize that it was traumatic for both of you. But it was different in your case.”

  “Really?”

  “We both know that you weren’t deeply in love with Randall and it’s obvious that there was no one else for you. Your heart was not broken. Granted, the marriage was a mistake, but it was one you could correct easily enough.”

  “Just one of those annoying little speed bumps on the road of life?”

  The evident strain on Brooke’s attractive face grew more acute. “I’m not trying to make light of what happened. But you must realize that the marriage and divorce were much harder on Randall than they were on you?”

  “Is that so?”

  “He was devastated. His sense of guilt weighs so heavily on him. Don’t you understand? He blames himself for everything that happened.”

  “Randall blames himself for the screw-up of our marriage? That’s news to me.”

  Brooke looked first confused and then ruefully apologetic. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t quite what I meant.”

  “Oh, I get it. He feels guilty because by rushing into marriage with me, he screwed up his chance of marrying you.”

  “I’m the one who must carry the weight of that guilt,” Brooke whispered. “I walked away from Randall because I thought he was too obsessed with gaining control of what he viewed as his rightful inheritance. I was afraid that his single-minded determination to loosen Stanford Felgrove’s hold on Austrey-Post would destroy any hope of happiness in our personal relationship.”

  “So you turned to George Langworth.”

  “George is a wonderful, kind, caring man. But I realized almost at once that marrying him was a terrible mistake. By then, however, it was too late. He had been diagnosed with cancer. I couldn’t leave him. Meanwhile, Randall had married you. We were both trapped.”

  “A couple of star-crossed lovers.”

  A pained expression flickered across Brooke’s face. “Please don’t be facetious. I realize that you can’t possibly have much sympathy for me, but I know that you care for Randall in your own way.”

  “My own way?”

  Brooke hesitated. “Randall has explained to me that you’re a lot like your great-aunt when it comes to strong emotions.”

  “Meaning I’m cold, controlling, incapable of blazing passions and so forth?”

  To Cady’s amazement, embarrassment infused Brooke’s expression. “Everyone is different when it comes to strong emotions.”

  “Maybe we ought to get back to the reason you asked me to come here today. Why don’t you tell me exactly what you want from me?”

  Brooke walked to the nearest chair and sat down. Her voice dropped to a lower, more intense pitch. “I wanted to make certain that you understood just how important it is that this merger go through. It’s an excellent opportunity for both firms, of course, but it’s vital for Randall’s emotional well-being.”

  “Are you telling me that you think he’ll go off the rails if the merger falls apart? Maybe sink into clinical depression or something?”

  Brooke twisted her hands together very tightly in her lap. “I don’t know what he’ll do if the merger fails. That’s what frightens me.”

  A man appeared in the opening that separated the living room from the expansive front hall. He was dressed in white trousers, a white shirt and soft-soled white shoes. A stethoscope was slung around his neck.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, Mrs. Langworth.”

  Brooke turned sharply in her chair, eyes darkening with concern. “What is it, Kevin?”

  “You asked to be notified at once if there was any change in Mr. Langworth’s condition.”

  Cady could see from the somber expression on Kevin’s face that the change in George Langworth’s condition, whatever it was, had not been for the better.

  Brooke was already on her feet. “Yes, thank you, Kevin.” She was halfway across the room before she seemed to remember Cady’s presence. “Will you excuse me? Jill will show you out.”

  “Don’t worry. I can see myself out.” Cady rose from the sofa and collected her purse.

  Brooke inclined her head once and then disappeared with Kevin.

  Cady crossed the huge living room and went into the front hall. She stepped out into the sunshine and closed the door on the brooding shadows of age and impending death that filled the Langworth villa.

  “I think I’m getting somewhere with this financial data on Arden that you gave me,” Gardner said on the other end of the phone. “Some patterns are emerging. But I’m going to need more information.”

  “What kind of information?” Mack asked.

  Gardner paused briefly. “We might as well start with the obvious suspects. Can you get me some banking history on Stanford Felgrove and Randall Post?”

  Mack thought about how ridiculously easy it had been for Ambrose Vandyke to pull Jonathan Arden’s financial records off the internet. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”

  “I won’t ask why that is not a problem,” Gardner said dryly. “I’d rather not know.”

  “You and me both. First thing I learned when working with a really good freelance consultant is not to ask too many questions.” Mack heard the doorbell ring at the front of the villa. “I’ve got company. Anything else you need?”

  “Not right now.”

  “In that case, I’ll talk to you later.”

  The doorbell chimed again. Mack hung up the phone, got to his feet and left the study. He went into the hall and opened the front door.

  Stanford Felgrove stood on the front step, smiling his polished smile.

  “Thought I’d see if I could interest you in a round of golf, Easton.”

  “Why not?” Mack said. “Not like I’m doing anything exciting here.”

  Just trying to pin fraud and maybe a murder rap on you, he added silently. But he could take some time off from that job, he thought. He had some very smart people working the problem. And who knew what he might learn by playing golf with Stanford Felgrove?

  He stood on the terrace with Cady discussing Brooke Langworth.

  “I think she was genuinely worried about Randall’s potential reaction to a failed merger,” Cady said. “I got the feeling she thought he might go off the deep end if it didn’t go through. She was very intense about it, Mack.”

  He studied the sunset while he thought about that piece of information. “Maybe she was just trying to push some emotional buttons she thought might encourage you to vote for the merger.”

  “Maybe. But she seemed sincere, Mack.”

  “Think she plans to marry Post after her husband dies?”

  “I certainly didn’t ask her such a tacky question, but I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s her intention.”r />
  “Hmm.”

  “What does ‘hmm’ mean?”

  “It means that, if you’re right, we’d better add Brooke Langworth to your list of murder suspects.”

  Cady froze. And then turned quickly. “Are you serious?”

  “If her feelings for Randall are as deep as you claim, then she had a strong motive for wanting to ensure the success of the merger.”

  “Love?”

  “More likely her motive was to ensure that Randall Post is ultimately in control of the new and improved Chatelaine-Post.”

  “I don’t know, Mack. I can’t see Brooke as a killer.”

  “She married once for money and status. Why wouldn’t she want to do it again?”

  Cady shook her head. “She may not love George Langworth, but I think she cares about him. I saw her face when the nurse came to tell her that George had taken a turn for the worse. She’s committed to caring for him until the end. Don’t forget, she could have divorced Langworth after he was diagnosed with cancer but she didn’t. She stayed with him.”

  “She probably stands to inherit a good chunk of his estate. In the end, she will no doubt be a lot better off as Langworth’s widow than his divorced wife.”

  Cady pondered that. “All right, you’ve got a point. Any word from Gardner?”

  “He’s still working on the printouts I gave him.”

  “How did the round of golf go?”

  “About how you would expect. Felgrove spent most of the time giving me a sales pitch on the joys of combining Chatelaine’s and Austrey-Post. Seemed to think that since I’m planning to marry you, I have a vested interest in making sure that the merger goes through.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “He believes that you’re marrying me because of my connection to Chatelaine’s?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “What a creep. But I can’t say that I’m stunned with surprise.”

  “People tend to assume that whatever motivates them, motivates others,” Mack said. “I think it’s safe to say that Stanford Felgrove is strongly motivated by financial considerations.”

  “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

  “I did learn one other interesting thing about Felgrove today,” Mack said.