If I felt nervous before, it was nothing compared to what I was feeling now. The fair hair might have turned a silvery shade of gray, and the chiseled chin might have softened somewhat over time, but the brown eyes had stayed the same—dark, serious, intense.
The man from the locket.
Reid.
Chapter 41
It occurred to me that the reason Reid had looked familiar all this time was because of Royce. It wasn’t so much that Royce was a younger version of Reid, as was the case with Porsche and Melanie, as a general similarity in the overall features. Standing in the same room, however, it was overwhelmingly obvious and I couldn’t imagine how I’d missed it. I made a concerted effort not to look shocked and must have succeeded because no one looked at me oddly.
In fact, no one looked at me, period. All eyes were on Reid. He had a commanding presence, the sort that comes with power and wealth. I could imagine him, thirty years younger, handsome, charismatic, more than a little bit arrogant, on his way to making his first million in the markets, yet somehow still finding time to volunteer an hour or so here and there.
I could equally imagine my stay-at-home mother, a leader and go-getter by all accounts, trying to find new meaning in her life by taking charge of volunteer initiatives while scraping by on my father’s income as an apprentice sheet metal worker. A decent living, to be sure, one with promise, but often seasonal, especially when the residential or commercial construction industry was in a slump. I know. I’d experienced enough of those times growing up. It had been feast or famine. Crazy overtime hours for eighty-hour work weeks during a project on deadline, then nothing—maybe a few hours here and there.
Reid poured himself a generous scotch on the rocks and made his way over to where I was sitting. “You must be Callie Barnstable. Royce has been telling me about you. It seems you’ve made quite an impression on my son.” He flashed an ultra-white smile and winked in Royce’s general direction.
Porsche grinned and hugged her knees to her chest as if waiting for a show. Melanie stared into her martini. For his part, Royce looked mildly embarrassed, not that I blamed him.
“Guilty as charged,” I said, attempting a smile. “Thank you for inviting me.”
“Our pleasure. Melanie tells me you’re hoping to find out more about your mother.”
“That’s right. Abigail Barnstable.” I studied his face for any sign of discomfort. Nada.
“Abigail Barnstable, yes, although I knew her as Abby. I volunteered with her on a couple of initiatives. I first met her at a Canada Day tree planting sponsored by the town. When she wanted to start up a food bank, she called me and asked if I could help.”
“So you stayed in touch after the tree planting?”
“Not really. I suspect that she called everyone on her volunteer list. Maggie volunteered at the food bank as well, although as I recall her time there may not have been completely voluntary.” He took a sip of his scotch and winked at Maggie.
I forced another smile. “Maggie’s already shared her reason for volunteering. What about you? Surely a successful stockbroker wouldn’t be in the position of enforced community service. Were you friends with my mother?”
“Friends?” Reid narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the side as if in deep concentration. Waited a few moments, then, “No, I wouldn’t say we were friends.”
More like lovers, I thought, thinking about the tarot cards and the locket. But I couldn’t call him on it, not here in his own cottage country sunroom with his wife, son, and sister-in-law present. Besides, he wasn’t likely to admit it. “So if you weren’t friends—”
“Let’s just say your mother could be very persuasive, and the food bank meant a lot to her.” Another ultra-white smile. “Abby was a very passionate woman.”
I wasn’t sure whether Reid meant the double entendre or not, but I couldn’t help but notice that the color had drained from Melanie’s face, while Maggie looked positively like a cat with the cream. Royce looked oblivious. I plunged ahead.
“I’m afraid I don’t know much about her. My mother left when I was six, and my dad didn’t talk about her much as I was growing up.”
“I can understand that. There was a lot of gossip after your mother’s disappearance, much of it directed in his direction. It must have been extremely difficult for him. For both of you. Of course, I never knew your father. My association was strictly with Abby, and it was a very long time ago.” Reid cast a sideways glance at his wife. “That chapter of my life is long behind me.”
“I wish we could tell you more, Callie,” Melanie said, a faint flush staining her cheeks, “but the reality is none of us knew her very well. I’m sorry we can’t be more help.”
Did Melanie really believe that? Because I was convinced there had been an affair, and Reid’s innuendo and body language suggested his wife knew all about it. Maggie’s earlier offhand comment just confirmed my suspicions.
I thought about the locket. Surely if my mother had left that day to meet or be with Reid she would have worn the locket, not hidden it inside an envelope under the carpet. But if she’d left to meet with his wife, possibly worried about what might happen during the meeting. Until now, I’d suspected that Reid was the one who sent the tarot cards, but now I wondered if Melanie had been the orchestrator of that particular symphony.
I took a generous sip of my chardonnay and contemplated my next step. Reid claimed he didn’t know my father but the truth was both men had been at the Canada Day tree planting, and without a doubt my mother would have introduced him. That meant he’d lied. Showing Reid the tree planting photo would make me look sneaky. It would also put Reid on the defensive, something I didn’t want. But if I just showed the photograph from the food bank, maybe I could find out more about Dwayne Shuter and Misty Rivers.
“Earth calling Callie, come in Callie.” Royce’s voice, a soft buzz in my ear. I flashed him a sheepish grin. I knew I’d been alone in my thoughts but I hadn’t realized it had been so obvious.
“My apologies. It’s just that I was thinking about the printout I’d brought along with me. It’s in my room.”
“Printout? What sort of printout?” Royce and Melanie spoke in unison. Maggie’s eyes narrowed. Reid’s face was inscrutable.
“I’ve been doing some research at the Regional Reference Library. I found a photograph of my mother at the food bank during a holiday drive. It was in the Marketville Post. I didn’t realize it until now, but I’m sure both Maggie and Reid are in the picture. May I show it to you? There are a couple of other people in the photo. Maybe you can tell me who they are.”
“I’m not sure what good identifying people we knew thirty years ago will be of any help to you, Callie, but I’m sure we’d all be happy to take a look.” Melanie looked at Reid and Maggie. “Isn’t that right?”
“Goes without saying,” Maggie said, studiously picking the pimento out of another olive.
“Whatever we can do,” Reid said, but judging by the sudden twitch in his jaw, I wasn’t entirely sure I believed him.
Chapter 42
Any conversation was quickly silenced when I sauntered back into the sunroom, printout in hand. Maggie went and stood behind Reid, ending any indecision on my part as to who to show it to first.
“You can see my mother is in the foreground,” I said, pointing to her. “There are four other volunteers in the photograph. There you are, Reid, and the striking redhead would be you, Maggie. I’m not sure who the other two are. The man with a beard and a small crescent-shaped scar above his left eyebrow, and the woman with dark eyes and curly brown hair.”
“I really was striking, wasn’t I?” Maggie said, without a trace of humility. “So were you, Reid. I’d forgotten how handsome you were.”
“Were? Are you saying I’ve lost my looks, Maggs? Because that might be a bit like the pot calling the kettle black.” Reid softened his words with a smile, but I could tell by Maggie’s quick flinch and tightened grip on the back of Reid’s
chair that the words stung.
“The years have been kind to both of you,” I said, determined to keep the peace. “How else would I have recognized you from a thirty-year-old photograph?”
That seemed to mollify Maggie. Her fingers relaxed and her face lost its painfully pinched expression. A brief smile played at the corners of Reid’s mouth, and he gave me an almost imperceptible nod. I was left with the feeling that I’d passed some sort of litmus test.
“What about the other two?” I asked again.
“The woman with the unbecoming perm is Misty Rivers,” Maggie said. “She claimed to be a psychic, used to do tarot card readings for those of us at the food bank. A lot of hogwash if you ask me, but as I recall, your mom used to ask her questions about tarot.”
“What sort of questions?”
Maggie shrugged. “You’re asking me after all these years as if I might actually remember? I suppose something along the line of what does this or that card mean, that sort of thing.”
“What about Misty Rivers? Have you kept in touch?”
“You’re kidding, right? I had less than zero in common with her.”
“So the answer is no.”
“You catch on fast,” Maggie said, attacking another pimento. “I haven’t seen or heard from Misty Rivers in years. Do you remember her, Reid?”
Reid shook his head. “Can’t say as I do, but then again my contribution came from trying to solicit corporate donations, either in the form of food or cash. Most of my dealings with Abby fell outside of the food bank hours, when everyone else had left. She liked to keep the financial aspect of things on a need to know basis. Besides, at the time I was working on Bay Street in the city. I don’t even remember this photo being taken.”
I wasn’t sure I believed him about not remembering the photo shoot, but his admission that he met with my mother outside of food bank hours to discuss finances certainly provided the opportunity to carry on an affair.
“What about the man? Do you recognize him?”
Reid gave the photo another cursory glance. “Sorry, he doesn’t look familiar.”
“Maggie?”
“He was only there a couple of times when I was there and I don’t remember his name.” Maggie scrunched up her face in concentration. “Might have been William, Warren, Wade. Something with a W. Maybe Mellie can ID him. She’s great with names and faces, and she was always doing some sort of charity drive or another. It’s possible she ran into him.”
“I’m certainly willing to take a look,” Melanie said.
I wandered over to Melanie’s wicker chair and had just handed her the photo when Maggie piped up again.
“Wayne, that was it. His name was Wayne. I still can’t remember his last name.”
Melanie looked up from the photo, her face pale beneath her tan. “Not Wayne,” she said, “Dwayne. His name is Dwayne Shuter.”
It wasn’t so much what she said, but how she said it. That’s when I realized Reid wasn’t the only Ashford who’d had an affair back in 1985.
Chapter 43
“Dwayne Shuter,” I said, as if I’d never heard the name before.
Porsche leaned over to take a look at the picture. “He looks very handsome and that scar over his eye lends a hint of mystery. However, did you meet him, mommy?”
“Yes, do tell, Mellie,” Maggie said, toying with the pimentos she’d placed on her napkin. I noticed her hands had the slightest tremor and realized she’d known who Dwayne Shuter was all along. Had she been trying to protect her sister-in-law, or put her on the spot? I glanced at Reid, but his face was an impenetrable mask. This was a man used to hiding his emotions.
Melanie handed the printout back to me, the color back in her face. She’d had time to recover. “I’m afraid it’s rather a dull story. I met him while I was getting things ready for the school library fundraiser. There were a bunch of tables and folding chairs in the basement, and he was down there doing something with the ductwork.” She smiled at the memory. “I wasn’t expecting anyone to be down there, and certainly not a guy in coveralls and a hard hat. He gave me quite a scare. Anyway, he was kind enough to help me take the tables and chairs upstairs.”
“Probably paid by the hour,” Reid said, getting up to pour another scotch. “Kindness likely never factored into it. Any excuse to bill the school and its taxpayers for more time. I know the type.”
Melanie flushed and I could tell she was trying to formulate a response when Royce spoke up.
“What type is that, father? The contractor type?” Royce said it quietly, but the underlying anger was unmistakable. What was it he’d said? That his father had never considered Royce’s line of work dignified enough to be worthy of the Ashford name. I thought he’d been exaggerating at the time. Now I realized he’d been dead serious.
“Everything isn’t always about you, son,” Reid said. “I was merely stating an opinion. Most of these construction workers overcharge and underwork. I’m sure this Dwayne person was no exception.”
I knew I should have kept my mouth shut. After all, I was a guest in Reid’s cottage, and I wanted to find out more about Dwayne Shuter. But I couldn’t let it go.
“My father was a construction worker, Mr. Ashford, and to the best of my knowledge, he was as honest as the day is long, as were, I’m sure, the majority of his co-workers. The same cannot be said for your former profession, as history has told us on more than one occasion, the recent economic crisis being a notable example.”
To my surprise, Reid clapped. “You’ve found yourself a feisty one here, Royce. I like a woman who’s not afraid to speak her mind.”
“I didn’t find, Callie, father. She’s not some stray dog or cat. She’s my next-door neighbor, and we’re becoming friends. I brought her to the cottage so she could learn a little bit more about her mother, and by extension, possibly some of the people who might have known her. I’d rather hoped we could avoid playing dysfunctional family just this once.”
“Honestly, bro, why do you let daddy bait you like that? You know he’s just trying to get to you.” Porsche got up and poured another martini, took a long, generous swig, then topped up her glass. “Callie, on behalf of the entire Ashford clan, let me apologize for our poor behavior.”
“There’s no need, Porsche, but thank you.” I probably should have uttered some sort of apology back, but it would have been insincere, and I don’t do insincere well. What I really wanted was to know more about Melanie’s version of Dwayne Shuter, though I knew this wasn’t the time or place for it. Whatever Melanie knew or didn’t know, she wasn’t about to say it around her husband, children, or sister-in-law. I was thinking of ways to get her alone when Royce came to the rescue.
“Mom, Callie’s also a runner. Do you think she could join you tomorrow morning for your Sunday run?”
Melanie smiled gratefully at Royce, the tension draining from her neck and shoulders. “It would be lovely to have company for a change. Did you bring your running gear, Callie?”
“I did. I wasn’t sure if I’d get a run in, but I packed with the idea it might be possible. I’m not especially fast though.”
“Neither is Melanie,” Reid said.
Melanie glared at him. “As if you’d know. The only exercise you get is getting in and out of a golf cart.”
“I’m only basing my observations on how long it takes you to get back to the cottage, darling.”
This time, Melanie ignored the barb. “I have a lovely five-mile route, Callie, very scenic. Most of it’s along the trail behind the golf course, which sometimes slows the pacing down to an absolute crawl. Have to be mindful of rocks and roots and the inclines are as steep as stepladders. I usually have a bowl of oatmeal and then head out at eight o’clock. I stop and have coffee at the local café when I’m finished.”
“A very long coffee,” Reid said.
“It sounds great, the run and the coffee after,” I said, hoping to put an end to the bickering. “I would love to join you.”
“Mommy, shouldn’t we be getting ready for supper? You know how Bianca hates it when we’re late,” Porsche said, trying to play peacekeeper.
“You’re right, Porsche, and besides, we’re being rude to our guest.” Melanie summoned up a smile. “Bianca’s our cook and she most definitely does not like to be kept waiting. Dinner’s at seven o’clock sharp.”
Melanie got up and strolled out of the sunroom. Reid, Maggie, and Porsche followed close behind. No one spoke.
“I tried to warn you,” Royce said after they’d left. “Cat and mouse. You should be able to find out more about Dwayne Shuter tomorrow. Based on father’s behavior—worse than usual—I’m fairly certain there’s more to that story than some tables and chairs in the school basement.”
So he had the same impression as I did. I wondered what else he knew or suspected. I had the feeling it was more than the vague memory of a kind cookie lady.
How much more, I was about to find out.
Chapter 44
We were about three miles into our run, the terrain as rugged and scenic as Melanie promised, when she took the pace down to an easy jog. I didn’t see anything treacherous about this particular stretch of trail, but I was willing to follow her lead. After all, I didn’t know what lay ahead.
“Look, Callie,” Melanie said, slowing down even more. “You came here looking for the truth. I think after thirty years of living without a mother, you deserve that much.” She attempted a smile, failed miserably. “Reid disagrees with me. We’ve had more than a few harsh words since Royce called asking if he could bring you here.”
Skeletons in the Attic (A Marketville Mystery Book 1) Page 19
