by Lois Schmitt
Moray rose from his desk to greet me. He was dressed casually in khakis and a forest green golf shirt. Two decades ago, he had served in the special forces, and today, with his shaven head, black goatee, and husky build, he looked every bit the part.
He must have noticed me staring at his brag wall because he said, “Not bad for a boy from Brooklyn. I wasn’t born rich. I’ve earned every penny. Along the way, I’ve helped people.”
“I can see that from all your awards.”
“I’m not talking about the plaques.” He sat back down. “Sure, I’ve served on boards of several charities, but I’ve also assisted the community by creating jobs with my land developments, which my new condo project will do again.”
Great segue. I grinned.
“But what about the environment?” I asked as I sank into a black leather chair and pulled out my pen and pad. The aquarium wants the land to be used for—”
“I know.” He held up his hands. “If I succeed in buying the property, I intend to donate one of the twenty acres to the aquarium, so they can do a small expansion, perhaps ensure breeding grounds for the piping plover.”
I suppressed a smile. Piping plover had been found nesting on that land this spring. As an endangered species, federal law required the area be protected. Moray wouldn’t be permitted to build in this section even if he owned the property. Deciding to ignore this point for the present time, I asked, “That’s generous, but one acre will severely limit the aquarium’s plans. What can they do with one acre?”
“In this economy, we all need to compromise, something I find most environmentalists are unwilling to do.” He leaned forward, spreading out his hands. “The environmental community in Clam Cove can’t even come to agreement on this land issue. Not all want it to go to the aquarium. Take Ruby Diamond.”
“Ruby Diamond?”
He shook his head. “Ruby heads a group called Friends of the Fish. They oppose not only my resort but the aquarium’s project too. Her group says any interference by humans, no matter how well intentioned, is unnatural and wrong. They want the acres to remain just as they are.”
Commander West had not mentioned Ruby Diamond or her organization. Friends of the Fish would provide a twist to my story. I scribbled notes as fast as Lucien Moray talked.
“Ruby lives on the beach in a small cottage with a pottery studio in front,” said Moray. “Interesting how it’s okay for her to own beach front property, isn’t it?”
We talked for another fifteen minutes. While rising to leave, I asked, “Is Sam Wong here? We have a mutual friend and I want to say hello.”
“I don’t believe he’s in today.”
“Do you know where he is?” Perhaps I was too blunt, but, hey, the interview was finished, and in the worse case scenario, Moray would say it was none of my business.
Moray smiled. “Micromanaging is not my style. All my people have their assignments. I don’t require them to account for every minute of the day.”
Bottom line: He didn’t know Sam Wong’s whereabouts, or if he did, he wasn’t telling me.
On the way out, I asked Mama Grizzly if I could use the restroom. She sighed as if this request placed a great burden upon her, but she handed me a key and told me to turn left and go to the end of the corridor.
I really didn’t need to use the facilities, but I wanted an excuse to wander down the hall. I hoped Sam Wong’s office would be along the way, and I was in luck. Half way down, I spotted a door with a sign that read Samuel Wong, Attorney.
After making sure I was alone in the hallway, I tried the door. It was unlocked. I opened it slowly and peeked inside.
The walls were bare. The only furniture consisted of a desk, one chair, and an empty book case. There were no photos, personal mementos, or computers.
The room looked as if no one worked here.
Chapter Four
“I wonder if Sam Wong’s disappearance and Jack Patterson’s death are related?” Abby asked after biting into her third slice of pizza and wiping the cheese off her chin. A size six, my daughter consumed as much food as a longshoreman, but she exercised like an Olympic contender.
Abby, who rented a beach house with her lawyer boyfriend, was eating a late dinner at my home since Jason was working extra hours on a case for his firm. My husband, Matt, a veterinarian, was meeting with his accountant tonight, something he was doing with more and more frequency.
“But Katie said there’s no connection between Sam and Jack,” I argued. “They hardly knew each other.”
“Nothing makes sense.” Abby paused. “I talked to Katie before coming here. She’s so depressed.”
I nodded while chewing my pizza. “I called Katie earlier to let her know that both Lucien Moray and his administrative assistant claim to know nothing about Sam’s whereabouts.”
“What are you going to do?” Katie stared at me with her molasses colored eyes. “Are you going to investigate Jack’s death and Sam’s disappearance?”
“I haven’t decided. I don’t know Jack, so there’s no reason to get involved. I hesitated. “But I might nosy around a bit—just in case it involves the aquarium. And I will try to help Katie find her fiancé.”
“Good. Let me know what I can do to help.”
I grinned. Since Abby helped me solve the murder this summer of a local zoo director, she viewed herself as Watson to my Sherlock Holmes.
“How well do you know Sam?” I asked.
Abby shrugged. “Not that well. Usually, when Katie and I were together, he was working. I was with him a few times, when Jason and I went out with Sam and Katie to dinner or a movie.”
“Has Katie contacted Sam’s family about his disappearance? Friends?”
“Most of his family still lives in China. His closest relative is his cousin Ray in Connecticut. They usually call each other at least once a week, but Ray hasn’t heard from him. Katie talked to Sam’s friends too, but no one knows a thing.”
I broke my pizza crust in two and slipped one half to Brandy, my eight year old collie, and the other half to Archie, my one hundred pound mixed breed, who resembled a small, black bear. They had been waiting patiently at my feet. Abby, a veterinarian—she worked at her father’s veterinary hospital—didn’t believe in feeding the dogs from the table. She shot me a look but said nothing. I knew she wanted to keep the conversation focused on Katie.
“I’ll touch base with Katie again tomorrow. She may know more than she realizes,” I said. “And I’m attending a community meeting later tomorrow evening on the land acquisition. Moray’s key people will be there. Maybe I can find out something from them about Sam.”
I began cleaning up. Abby stretched her five-foot body and reached for the aluminum foil from the top cabinet. She had inherited her height genes from me. “Can I take some pizza home?” she asked. “Jason may be hungry when he gets out of work.”
“Jason is always hungry. I’m sure his law firm will send out for food, but you can have a slice. I want to save the others for your father. He said he’d grab a bite, but sometimes he gets so preoccupied he forgets to eat.”
“You’re right.” Abby frowned. “He’s worried about finances.”
I nodded in agreement. A Health and Wellness Center for Companion Animals had opened only a few blocks from Matt’s veterinary hospital. It featured herbal remedies, chiropractic adjustments, massages, and water therapy, along with traditional veterinary medicine. We were all concerned about the impact on Matt’s business.
My mind had switched from Katie Chandler, Sam Wong, and Jack Patterson to my husband and his veterinary hospital. This was his life’s work, and he had recently taken a large loan to update his facility. But I didn’t have long to ponder this problem as I was jostled out of my thoughts when the doorbell rang.
As the two dogs charged out from under the table, Archie bumped his head, lost his
footing, slipped on the tile floor, and crashed into the garbage can. Turning his head in my direction with a goofy grin on his face, he scrambled to his feet and joined Brandy by the kitchen door where the two stood at full alert, barking.
Abby and I exchanged wary glances.
“Are you expecting someone?” my daughter asked.
“No.” I rose from my chair and headed toward the door with trepidation. Rarely would someone drop by at night without first calling.
I glanced out the side window, then quickly pulled open the door. There she stood. A woman in her early seventies but who at first glance appeared at least fifteen years younger, with blond hair worn in an elegant twist, creamy skin perfectly made-up, and dressed in camel colored pants and a chocolate cashmere sweater. She toted a designer suitcase.
“Hello, Kristy.”
I blinked, not believing my eyes. “Mom?”
Chapter Five
I hugged my mother, then stepped back. My mouth was open, but nothing was coming out.
“Are you just going to stand there, Kristy, or do you plan to let me in?”
I moved aside, and Mary Frances O’Hara Vanikos paraded into the room. My mother, a widow for nearly a decade, lived in Florida. She visited us on a schedule that hadn’t wavered once during the past ten years—Christmas through New Years and the last two weeks in April. Why was she here now?
“Grandma.” Abby rose and hugged my mother while the dogs barked and wagged their tails.
“You look terrific, Abby. Are you still living with that lawyer? What’s his name again? Jason? When is he going to make an honest woman of you?” I cringed. Abby grinned.
“We’re doing fine, Grandma.”
My mother spun around. “You look pretty good too, Kristy. Although I liked your old hair style better. Did you put on a few pounds?”
Before I could sputter a reply, Abby asked, “What brings you here?”
“I’ve a surprise.” She winked. Never a good sign. “I’ll tell you later. But first I should get settled since I’ll be here for about a month. I probably should have called.”
She had called three days ago and said nothing about this visit.
“I want to use the bathroom to freshen up. I’ll unpack later. Kristy, why don’t you pour us some wine. Then we can sit down, have a nice chat, and I’ll tell you what this is all about.
Wine sounded like an excellent idea.
*****
Minutes later, we were sitting around the kitchen table, wine glasses filled to the brim.
“Mom, what’s going on? You never visit in the fall.”
“I’m meeting a friend.”
“A friend?” I gulped some wine.
“I met him this spring. His name is Paul Andre. Isn’t that a wonderful name. He lives in Florida, but he’s in New York on business. He’ll be here for most of October, so I decided to come up and spend time with him. Since you’re not too far from the city, I thought I’d combine visiting him with visiting you. I’d like you to meet him.”
“He sounds like a close friend,” Abby said.
My mother grinned. “He’s more. Paul’s my fiancé.”
“Fiancé!” I choked on my wine and coughed.
“It’s not official yet. But that’s why I’m here. He’s buying a ring.” Turning her head toward Abby, she winked. “Paul’s got all sorts of connections in the diamond district.”
“How long have you known him?” I asked, after the coughing ceased.
“It’s not the length of time, dear. It’s the depth of feeling. Besides, I’m not Abby’s age. I don’t have lots of extra years for prelims.”
Prelims? “Where did you meet Paul?”
“Florida.”
“I meant how did you meet him? Through friends? Did he move into your condo development?”
“I met him at an art gallery opening. You’ll like him. He’s handsome, sophisticated—”
“What does he do for a living?”
She paused, furrowing her brows. “He calls himself a venture capitalist. Paul doesn’t talk much about business. Says it would bore me. But he’s well off.” She grinned. “Drives a convertible. We toot all around Florida with the top down.”
The dogs barked as headlights flooded the driveway adjacent to the kitchen window. A few seconds later, Matt strolled through the door.
“I’m home,” my husband said, announcing the obvious. His somber expression told me things hadn’t gone well with his accountant.
“Hello, Matt,” my mother called.
“Mom’s visiting for… a few days,” I said. I’d tell him how long later. “She’s engaged.”
“That’s nice.” His tone was the same as if I had told him I bought a new pair of shoes. He ran his hand through his thinning sandy hair. “I’m going to work for a while in my study.”
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“Yeah, it will be fine. I just need time to think.” He wandered toward his study without saying good-night.
“What’s with Matt?” My mother frowned. “He didn’t ask why I was here or about my engagement.”
Abby and I exchanged glances. “He had a long day, Grandma.” Abby rose from her chair and stretched her arms. “So have I. It’s time for me to go home.”
“I’m tired too,” my mother said, “and I have to unpack. I think I’ll call it a night.”
After Abby left and my mother headed to her room, I settled back down at the table with another glass of wine.
As I sipped my drink, dozens of thoughts squirreled through my mind. Katie’s friend died today. Her fiancé was missing. My mother was engaged to a man she appeared to know little about. And what was the news from Matt’s accountant?
I swallowed what remained of my wine, washed my glass, and trudged up the stairs to bed with Archie and Brandy at my heels. I was bone tired and tomorrow was another day.
*****
“These bagels smell heavenly,” my mother said stepping into my kitchen the next morning. I’d risen early and picked up bagels, still warm from the oven, from the local bagel shop.
The dogs positioned themselves on either side of my mom. She wasn’t a food sharer, but they could hope for crumbs.
“I’m sorry I can’t spend the day with you,” I said as I handed her a mug of coffee. “But I’ve got to work all day, and I’m busy tonight too. I’m attending a village hall meeting this evening in Clam Cove.”
“I figured you’d be busy, so I’m going shopping today. I rented a car. Tonight, I’m having dinner in the city with my Paul.”
“By the way, when will we meet him?”
“I’m glad you mentioned that. I invited him here for Wednesday. Thought you might throw a little dinner party.”
Wednesday? Today was Tuesday. “That doesn’t give me much time.”
“Keep it small. You, Matt, Abby, and her boyfriend. Oh, let’s also invite your brother and that wife of his.”
“Barbara,” I said. My mother never referred to my brother’s wife by her name.
“Whatever. I think you should—”
My cell phone rang. Glancing at caller ID, I saw it was Katie. I held up my hand. “I need to take this call.”
“Sam still hasn’t returned,” Katie said, her voice quaking as she spoke. “I called the police again, but they don’t seem concerned. Mrs. Farrell, what else can I do?”
“I have an interview with the aquarium’s development officer, Bradford Monroe, later this afternoon. Why don’t I stop by the sea lion amphitheater when I’m finished. It will be about four-thirty. We can put our heads together and see if we can come up with a plan to find Sam.”
She agreed. I asked her if there was any news about Jack Patterson’s death, and she said no. When I hung up, my mother picked up our conversation from when we had been interrupted.<
br />
“So Kristy, what will you make for dinner with Paul?”
“A phone call to a caterer.”
Chapter Six
Running late, I sped off to the Animal Advocate office, located in a two-story building in one of Long Island’s downtown business district. The first story housed a law firm and insurance agency. Animal Advocate occupied the second floor.
The magazine had been here since its inception five years ago. Last month, it was bought out by a large publishing conglomerate. Although all staff, including its editor-in-chief, Olivia Johnson, had been kept on, we were all walking on eggs. The new publishing house had a reputation for cost cutting, most of which involved eliminating jobs.
Once settled inside my cubicle, I switched on my computer, hit the keyboard, and began researching Stuart Holland, current owner of the twenty acres of land that the aquarium hoped to purchase.
I discovered that in the late 1800s, when eastern Long Island was considered the boondocks, Stuart Holland’s great grandfather moved here and bought the land for a song. Originally, the family owned more than half of what is now Clam Cove, but over the years, they sold most of it until all that remained was twenty bay front acres.
When Stuart Holland inherited the land, he put a stop to selling off more property. During his heyday, he had been active in several Long Island environmental groups that focused on keeping the water unpolluted and protecting marine life. Unfortunately, when the family’s once-lucrative hardware business went belly up five years ago, the then seventy-one year old Stuart sold his home and moved in with his daughter and her family in North Carolina.
I remembered Katie telling me that Stuart’s offspring pressured him to put the twenty acres up for sale, but Stuart didn’t agree until a year ago when he stipulated the aquarium be given first opportunity to buy. The deadline was June thirtieth of next year. If they could come up with the money, it was theirs. If not, it was up for grabs.
He probably realized that once he was gone his heirs would sell it anyway, I thought. At least now he had some control regarding who bought it.
