Lost Distinction

by Rachel Sharpe

  “Have you received anything that suggests Arthur was kidnapped? There is a possibility he simply took off, isn’t there?”

  “No, something happened to him,” Mr. Cross insisted. “Some bobbies on the beat by the Museum of London, nearly a mile away from the university, found his rucksack. He never would have left that behind. We haven’t received a ransom note yet, but I know something happened.”

  I stared at the unlit fireplace, thinking. Arthur had been missing for one week and the last place he was known to have been was at the London Metropolitan University where he was to pay off a drug dealer in London with $125,000 in his pocket. His backpack was located a mile away but there was no word from a kidnapper.

  “Sir, when we landed on Martha’s Vineyard, I noticed your assistant told you something that disturbed you. You looked, well, upset. Did that have something to do with Arthur or Henry?”

  The ambassador smiled grimly. “You are an investigator. Yes, Drew had just received word that Arthur’s rucksack was being held at Scotland Yard. It was a very troubling bit of news, as you can imagine.”

  “If I may ask, what was inside it? Did they find the money?”

  The ambassador crossed his arms. “No, the money was gone. His passport, driver’s license and cell phone weren’t found, either. The only way Scotland Yard knew it was his was because the bag was especially made for him as a graduation gift by his mother and had his name and mailing address inside.”

  “There’s no chance he could have dropped the bag? I mean, I’ve never been to London, but it’s possible he could have lost it in a crowd. Or someone could have stolen it?”

  At this, Rick shook his head, adamantly. “No, Mr. Cross is right. That bag meant a great deal to Arthur. It’s all he carried around when we took our gap year.”

  “Your gap year?”

  Rick nodded, carrying the novel back to the bookshelf. “Yeah, the year after graduation, Arthur and I both took off to travel. We ended up living in London for a bit.”

  “You two didn’t just live in London,” the ambassador corrected. “You boys devoted yourselves to charity work.” He glanced at me. “They spent countless hours helping Westminster Sound, an internationally renowned charity organization that works with inner city children to promote literacy.”

  I stared at Rick with a shocked expression on my face. I knew that he took about a year off school and that was the reason he, although being a few months older than me, graduated college nearly two years later, but he never told me the reason for his decision to postpone his studies. I assumed that it had something to do with helping his mother. Rick blushed beneath my gaze, and his face became almost the same color as his swollen eye.

  “It really wasn’t that big of a deal,” he protested, trying to downplay his kind actions. “It was Arthur’s idea anyway. He felt that we were both very fortunate and should show our gratitude by giving back.”

  “It may have been Arthur’s idea, but you both went,” Mr. Cross replied, quietly. “I was very proud of you both for your hard work. Kathryn and I were both proud.”

  Rick stared at him for several moments, speechless. Finally, he ran his fingers through his hair and nodded at me. “We were talking about Arthur’s rucksack. Again, I agree that Arthur would never have let that bag out of his sight.”

  I was startled by everything new I was learning about Rick that weekend, but knew this was not the time to address it. I grabbed my hair, which I had left down all evening, and tied it up in a makeshift ponytail. Loose tresses fell upon my shoulders. “So, Mr. Cross, who actually knows that Arthur is missing?”

  The ambassador narrowed his eyes, staring past me at the framed Monet-style masterpiece on the wall above the fireplace. “Let’s see, you and Richard, Kathryn, the children and their spouses, and my assistants, Drew and Devin. That should be everyone.”

  “No other staff members know?” I pressed.

  Across from me, Rick covered his mouth as he yawned. An antique clock upon the mantel announced that it was four in the morning.

  Gatlin Cross pressed his lips together. “All of my employees have signed confidentiality agreements upon hire, but the grapevine is a vicious mistress. I’m sure most of the help know by now. Kathryn and I rarely come home and our return was sudden. Also, the fact that everyone else is here and the fact that Richard is, too, suggests something is amiss.”

  “You don’t think any of them could be involved in his disappearance, do you?”

  “Absolutely not. Most of these people have worked for me for years. In fact, several of them had parents who worked for my parents. We trust them implicitly. None of them would wish to harm my children.”

  My mind flashed to the news article about Francine Harris and the threatening message scrolled across it. I momentarily considered asking the ambassador about her, but quickly stopped myself. Arthur disappeared in London and Francine Harris was in New York. However, it appeared that the letter had been mailed to Arthur from Whitechapel. “Mr. Cross, is Arthur seeing anyone right now? Or has he recently broken up with anyone?”

  He furrowed his brow curiously, glancing at Rick. “No, as far as I know, Arthur has never had a serious relationship. He’s painfully shy around women.”

  Rick gave him a dubious look, but said nothing.

  “Well, is there anyone he might have gone to see in London or anywhere in Europe?” I asked. “Does he have a lot of friends there?”

  “Friends? Yes, I would say Arthur has a handful of acquaintances still in the area, but even if he were going to see a friend, he wouldn’t have left the rucksack. And he always keeps his cell phone charged and on him at all times.”

  I considered all the information I had just acquired. I recalled the small image of Arthur I saw on Crowell Academy’s website as well as the pictures from his personal photo album. Rick said he had been a troubled child, desperate for his busy and ambitious father’s attention, often resorting to acting out as a way to obtain some of it.

  As he grew up, that quiet anger subsided and he became actively altruistic, hoping to give back to those who helped him when he was most in need. His longing for paternal approval shifted to a hunger to aid others and he avoided the people closest to him who had at one time sent him away instead of dealing with his issues. Exactly what issues he had, I still didn’t know, but I had every intention of finding out.

  Despite reservations about his family, Arthur agreed to help his brother, altering his summer plans for that reason. Now, his brother was dead and Arthur had been missing for a week. Although his father claimed to be concerned, he did not want anything to jeopardize his image. It explained why he called Rick and asked for this favor.

  If for no other reason, I would have taken the case for Rick. It was clear not only by his asking me for a favor, but also because he brought me to stay with a family he obviously wanted to avoid, that Arthur meant a lot to him. Still, I had never been to London. Or solved a missing person’s case. Or taken on such a personal one. This is probably a bad idea, I thought. I realized the ambassador and Rick were staring at me.

  I took a deep breath and eyed the ambassador again. “Sir, I want to help you find Arthur, but considering the circumstance of his disappearance, perhaps you might want to check with Scotland Yard, or maybe a British investigator? They may be of great help in this situation.”

  The ambassador shook his head so hard I feared he might give himself whiplash. “No, absolutely not. I do not want to involve the authorities or any outsiders. That must be a last resort. If Arthur did just wander off for some reason, I don’t want to deal with the inquiries that will inevitably arise following public knowledge of his reappearance, especially considering Henry”—he swallowed hard—“And if something did happen to him,” he said, flinching as he uttered those words, “well, let’s not go there unless we have to.”

  “Well, then, sir, the only way I can investigate this case any further is if I go to London.”

  I don
’t know exactly how I expected the ambassador to respond to this statement. Since it was four in the morning, I myself did not fully realize the impact of my remark. He stared at me for a moment. Without a word, he crossed the room and stopped at the Chippendale desk and picked up an old-fashioned rotary phone. He dialed a number with one fluid motion and waited for someone to pick up the late-night call. “Yes, I need three tickets to Heathrow. Now. Well, as soon as possible. What? Yes, that’s fine. Goodbye.”

  He placed the phone back in its cradle. Turning to me, he said, “We’re flying out of Barnstable Municipal in one hour. I assume that you want Richard to come along as well. Since you’ve never been.”

  “We’re leaving now?”

  The ambassador straightened his lapels once more as he strode across the room for the door like a man on a mission, suddenly sober despite the alcohol on his breath. He turned to face me. “Of course. You’re on the case and time is of the essence. We need to get there as soon as possible. Is that going to be a problem for you?”

  Jon suddenly flashed across my mind. Although I was still mad at him for his overreaction, I knew that I could not leave the country without telling him. This was, after all, a case.

  If I called him, however, I would be forced to deal with a confrontation, one I was not equipped to handle at four in the morning. I decided to take the coward’s way out and send him a text message. Ambassador Cross stared at me while I pondered all of this. “Miss James, will that be a problem for you?”

  I snapped back to reality and blushed. Damn. Daydreaming again. “No, sir, it won’t be a problem. It’s just, well, I only brought enough clothes for the weekend. They’re not exactly the type of outfits I would wear to work.”

  With his hand on the doorknob, he answered, “When we get to London, you may use our charge account to purchase some outfits at Quincy’s.”

  “That’s a department store,” Rick whispered.

  “Oh, no, sir, that’s not what I meant—”

  “Listen, if it’s a business expense, it’s a write off. Otherwise, we’ll deduct it from what I owe you later.”

  Without another word, he strode out the room. His shoes echoed along the wooden floors. I listened until they faded into nothing before turning to Rick.

  “What do you think?” He pulled me into a strong embrace and kissed me. When he finally released me and I regained my composure, I smiled, raising an eyebrow. “What was that for?”

  “For being yourself and for not being bullied. The ambassador’s pretty intimidating. Most people can’t stand their ground against him.”

  “You do.”

  He shrugged it off. “Not always. I’ve been subjected to both the Cross charm and the Cross temper. I’ve learned to pick my battles with this family.”

  Rick led me out the room. We turned left and headed down the long hallway and toward the stairs.

  “Why do you call him Mr. Cross? Isn’t he your uncle?”

  Rick shook his head. “No, he’s a cousin. He’s suggested I call him ‘Uncle’ for years, but he was Mr. Cross when I met him and that’s what he’ll always be.”

  We tiptoed up the stairs, careful not to break the silence as we headed down the hall. I paused outside the door to Arthur’s room where Rick was staying. “I know it’s early, but I feel guilty about not telling Michelle goodbye. Do you think it would be a bad idea to try?”

  Rick scratched his jaw. Stubble had appeared on his face as the evening progressed and was now made visible by the moonlight pouring in through the hallway window. It gave him a mysterious and rugged look that I found incredibly sexy. “That’s up to you. I don’t know her. I do know Edward, though, and he’s a sound sleeper. You could literally saw the newel post off the bed he’s sleeping on and he wouldn’t notice.”

  “Well, at least I know I won’t disturb him if I tell her goodbye.”

  “Here, give me your cell. I want it charged before we leave. I didn’t think I’d be heading to London tonight. If this is gonna take more than a day, I need to phone the office and let them know I’m taking some personal days.”

  I rummaged through my black patent-leather purse and extracted my dead phone. Handing it to him, I said, “I want to tell her goodbye. It should only take a minute and then I’ll grab my stuff and meet you here.”

  “That’s fine.”

  I turned and paused. “Which room is theirs?”

  Rick lovingly placed his hands on my waist, which filled my stomach with butterflies. He turned me to the right. “That way”— he kissed my ear—“Second door after the stairs.”

  I walked down the hall as the butterflies faded. I counted the doors several times before taking a deep breath and knocking. I prayed that I knocked on the right one. Less than a minute later, my fears were alleviated as the door flew open and Michelle stood in the entry.

  She wore a lavender, sleeveless v-neck nightgown. Her hair lay carelessly across her shoulders and despite having been awakened by my knocking, she appeared composed and somehow still managed to look amazing. I found myself a little jealous at how gorgeous she always looked. That feeling subsided when I saw the concern on her face.

  “Jordan, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing’s wrong, but Rick and I are leaving.”

  She blinked. Stepping into the hallway and closing the door behind her, she said, “If nothing is wrong, then why are you leaving? You’re still in your dress. You haven’t been to bed yet? Did you and Rick have a fight?”

  “No, everything is fine. We’ve been speaking with Mr. Cross and we’re flying to London with him.”

  Her eyes widened. “You’re flying to London now? Why?”

  I knew that since Mr. Cross was a client, information that he gave me, although relevant to the case, was still confidential. I thought carefully about how to word my response. “It has to do with Arthur.”

  “Did he show up?” she asked, her gray eyes dancing with excitement.

  I shook my head. “No, Mr. Cross wants me to check out a few things and see if we might be able to find him.”

  I knew by her behavior that no one else knew about Henry’s death. She took a strand of her raven hair between her index finger and thumb and began twirling it in a nervous manner, chewing her lower lip.

  “This sucks.” She sighed.

  “What does?”

  “Well, we’re just getting to know each other and now you have to leave. Do you want me to come with?”

  Although the concept sounded like fun, I knew it wouldn’t work. My first time abroad was a business trip and I couldn’t run the risk of blowing this case or risking Arthur’s life further by goofing off. “I’d love to hang out, but I think I’ll be working the entire time. I’m sorry.”

  “That’s all right. I doubt Eddie would let me run wild in a foreign country anyway, especially with a friend. Who knows what kind of trouble I would get myself into?” She smiled sadly. “Wait, what are you planning to wear? You only packed for the weekend, right?”

  I cringed at the reminder. “Well, Mr. Cross offered to let me use their charge account at—”

  “Quincy’s?” she interrupted, making a disgusted face. “Oh, no. No way. You will not buy anything from that place. My motherin-law shops there. Let’s just say they don’t sell anything that was made after 1995.”

  I glanced down at my cocktail dress. “Well, I can’t exactly wear this all day. I guess I could wear the halter top and capris again”

  “No, that’s not what I meant.” She laughed. “Listen, we don’t come here often but I have a few clothes here just in case. Come on in,” she said, quietly opening the door to the bedroom. “I’m sure we can find you a few outfits.”

  I held up my hands and shook my head. “No, that’s okay, really.”

  “What? You need something to wear, don’t you?”

  “I do, but I, well—”

  “What? What is it?”

  I frowned. “There’s no way I can fit in your clothes. You
’re, like, super skinny.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, right. And you’re really a whale. Listen, I’m not skinny and you’re not fat, so come on. You’re taking some of these outfits with you. I will not take no for an answer and I doubt you have time to argue.”

  I stood there for a second, weighing my options. Unfortunately, she was right. I didn’t have time to argue. There was a slim possibility that I might find a few loose-fitting ensembles that could work, so I decided not to fight her.

  I followed her into the thickly carpeted room, careful not to rouse Edward. It became clear to me that Rick was right. A bulldozer could not awaken Edward Cross. Michelle did not take the precautions I did, flinging open the closet door and flipping on the light switch. Light filled their large bedroom and a stream shone directly upon their Baroque Victorian king-size bed and into Edward’s eyes.

  “Shouldn’t you close that door?”

  Michelle glanced back as she led the way into the walk-in closet. “No, this won’t bother him. Come see.”

  The closet was ten-feet-by-fifteen-feet, only slightly smaller than my apartment’s living room. Michelle’s idea of “a few clothes” was more outfits than I even owned.

  Edward’s clothes were located on the left side of the closet and included everything from designer T-shirts to black tuxedos. Everything was organized by length, color and even season.

  Michelle’s clothes were on the right side of the closet. She possessed a stunning array of evening gowns, cocktail dresses, attractive tops and designer jeans on two different shelf levels. A third shelf held her numerous shoes and a fourth, smaller one held a few handbags. It was like a mini Neiman Marcus Louis Vuitton Prada outlet store. I totally wanted to live in that closet.

  She brushed some loose strands behind her ear. “Let’s see. I doubt you’ll have any formal events to attend, so let’s just stick to the basics. Okay, you’ll need some jeans, a few shirts, and, well, maybe one dress. You never know. Do you like this one?”