Romancing the Holidays: Twelve Christmas Romances - Benefits Breast Cancer Research

by Crista McHugh

  “I heard that once Balthazar Pottage began getting threatening letters he basically limited her movements to the estate.”

  “Yes, that’s true. I felt bad for her. She seemed very unhappy. It appeared that she adored her baby, but I had the feeling she regretted marrying such a forceful and controlling man. In many ways he treated her more like a child than a wife.”

  I took a sip of the coffee Francine had set in front of me before continuing.

  “Did you notice anything at all odd on the day of the christening that might lead to a clue as to what happened to Baby Charles?”

  Francine paused, I assumed to consider my question. “No. It was the oddest thing. There really is no logical explanation as to how the baby could have turned up missing. We were all downstairs during the ceremony. When the baptism was over Belle took Charles upstairs to feed him and put him down for a nap. The only person up there at the time was the nanny, who, based on what I’ve heard, was napping herself in the little room just off the nursery. There was a guard at the top of the stairs to ensure that no one who wasn’t authorized to do so accessed the second story of the house. There’s simply no way anyone could have taken that baby, but apparently someone did, and right under the nose of a houseful of people.”

  “Do you know if there’s a back staircase?”

  Francine thought about it. “Not that I know of, but I didn’t search the entire house, so maybe. I guess that would be a good question for Balthazar Pottage.”

  “Did you notice anyone acting oddly during the christening?”

  “No, not really. Once it was over and Belle took Charles upstairs everyone else helped themselves to the delicious buffet lunch. After she’d gotten the baby to sleep Belle joined us and actually seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood.”

  “And Pottage?” I asked. “What was he doing during the luncheon?”

  Francine frowned. “I don’t recall. I imagine he was mingling with the guests, but I didn’t speak to him myself. I’m sure he must have been there, though.”

  “So Belle came downstairs after putting the baby down for a nap. When exactly did she notice he was missing?” I asked.

  “It must have been about an hour later. Maybe more. Everyone was finished eating and most of us were saying our good-byes, although there were still several people at the bar that had been set up. I believe some of the guests were actually staying at the house. Anyway, Belle went back upstairs to check on Charles and the next thing we knew, she was standing at the top of the stairs screaming that he wasn’t there. Tripp Brimmer was called in and a thorough investigation of the house was conducted, but the baby had simply vanished.”

  Tripp was the resident deputy for Madrona Island at the time of the kidnapping.

  “Everyone was questioned, but no one admitted to having seen anything,” Francine went on. “It was simply horrifying. I felt so awful for Belle. She was hysterical, as one can imagine.”

  “Yes, I can.”

  Cody walked into the kitchen. “The tree’s in the stand and ready to be decorated. Do you need me to bring out your decorations?”

  “Would you, dear? They’re in the basement in green tubs with red tops.”

  “No problem,” Cody said and headed downstairs.

  “That’s quite a nice young man you’ve got yourself there.” Francine beamed.

  “Yeah, he’s the best.”

  “It warms my heart the way he looks after Mr. Parsons. He goes out of his way to make sure he eats right and has plenty of company. I know Mr. Parsons appreciates everything he does for him more than he can say.”

  “Cody really cares about Mr. Parsons. He thinks of him as an honorary grandfather. And I know he enjoys his apartment on the third floor of the house. It provides him with some privacy while also allowing him to feel like part of a family.”

  I could hear Cody moving things around in the space below the kitchen.

  “Cody and I plan to make dinner for Mr. Parsons on Christmas Eve,” I added. “We’d like you to come if you aren’t busy.”

  “Why, I’d love to. It does get lonely at times over the holidays. Do you mind if I bring Nora Bradley along? It’s her first Christmas since the mayor passed. I know the couple was in the process of divorcing, but Nora is still taking his death pretty hard. I’d planned to suggest to her that we do something together because, like me, she has no other family to spend the holiday with.”

  “We’d be happy to have Nora,” I said. “We plan to ask Banjo and Summer as well, so we’ll have a nice little group.”

  “I’m really looking forward to it.”

  I accepted a second cookie from Francine and added delicately, “Before we go I wanted to ask about Belle’s accident.”

  “It was such a tragedy,” Francine murmured. “The first few days after Charles went missing were complete and total chaos as the whole island was searched. I believe her visitors left after a few days and Belle was left in the house with only her husband, who was even more distraught, it seemed, than she was. She must have felt she needed some distance, because I heard she left the house during a storm. Her car slid off the road and she was killed.”

  “Do you know where she was going?” I asked.

  “I didn’t speak to her after the party, but I heard she was heading to the harbor. There was a newspaper report that she’d hired a boat to take her to the mainland, where she was going to meet a friend.”

  “She was taking a boat in the middle of a storm?” I asked.

  “Yes, that does seem odd. I guess I never really stopped to think about it before.”

  Cody came back into the room. “I’m all set. The boxes are next to the tree.”

  “Thank you. I do appreciate it.”

  I got up from the bar stool I was sitting on. “Thanks for the input. Francine. Let me know if anything else comes to mind.”

  “I’ll do that. You know, perhaps you should speak to the best friend. I believe her name was Beverly. Maybe she would know what Belle was really doing on the road during one of the stormiest days the island had seen for quite some time.”

  Chapter 7

  Thursday, December 17

  I pulled the covers up over my head against the chill in my room. At some point during the night the fire had died. I’d been exhausted by the time I’d gotten home from play rehearsal that night and hadn’t renewed the wood stove the way I should have.

  Ebenezer, who was burrowed under the covers with me, swatted at my nose as Max, who most likely needed to go out, began to move around the room. I slowly lowered the heavy comforter to peek out. It was snowing again, and if the ice on the windows was any indication, it appeared it was going to be a blustery day.

  “Fifteen more minutes,” I groaned as the animals began to grow impatient at my unwillingness to get up despite the fact that I was already most likely going to be late for work.

  Max pulled at the covers, which caused me to quite reluctantly roll out of bed. I pulled on my heaviest sweatshirt and knee-high slippers and shivered my way downstairs. I let Max out through the side door, then restarted the fire in both the wood stove and the small fireplace in the living room. Then I started a pot of coffee and fed Ebenezer while it brewed.

  Although I was freezing, the sight that greeted me through the windows was magical. Large snowflakes drifted through the air before falling into the ocean, which was nicely calm this morning.

  Max barked to let me know he wanted back in. I dried his coat and fed him before pouring my first cup of coffee. I took it into the living room, where I curled up in front of the fire with one of the quilts Maggie had made for me.

  The tree Cody and I had decorated on Tuesday evening lent a holiday feel to the room. I used the remote to turn on the lights so I could enjoy them while I sipped my morning brew. I wasn’t certain what to get for Cody for Christmas. I wanted something a bit more meaningful and personal than a sweater or a wallet, but I wasn’t sure we were in the place in our relationship where sexy underwea
r or silk pajamas were appropriate either.

  Of course we’d been sharing an intimate relationship for over a month, and something black and silky would look oh so good on his hard, fit frame.

  I leaned my head back against the sofa to further engage in my daydream about Cody and the imaginary gift I was sure I’d never have the courage to get for him when I heard a crash. I opened my eyes and looked around the room. Ebenezer had knocked my backpack off the table and the contents had spilled out on the floor. One of the items that had been in the bag I carried with me everywhere was an envelope filled with some of the newspaper articles, the police report, and various photographs of Charles that had been in the box Balthazar Pottage had given me. Apparently Ebenezer wanted me to work on the case while I sipped my coffee rather than daydreaming about Cody in black silk boxers.

  I reluctantly got up, refilled my cup, and picked up the stuff on the floor. I brought the envelope over to the sofa and slipped out the contents. The first document was the initial report written by Tripp Brimmer. I hadn’t gotten around to speaking to Tripp yet; perhaps today.

  The report detailed pretty much everything I’d already learned, and it clarified that access to the second story, where the nursery was located, had been limited to the main staircase, which had been guarded the entire evening.

  I thought about that some more.

  First of all, the fact that there was a guard on duty was odd. I understood Pottage was concerned about the safety of his family, but there was a guard at the gate monitoring access to the estate and everyone in the house that day were family or friends. Did Pottage anticipate a particular threat to his baby? And if so, from whom? I wished I had the old man’s phone number so I could call him; there was no way I’d have time to visit with him before Monday.

  The other thing I couldn’t help but consider was whether the upstairs guard was in on the abduction. If the only access to and from the second story was past that man, and the baby was somehow removed from that floor, it made sense that he must have been working with the kidnapper. The first thing on my list today, after I checked in with Tara, was going to be to track down and interview Roger Riverton. Maybe he could shed some light on what had really happened that day.

  I got up once again to retrieve the small notepad I kept in my backpack. I wrote down: interview Tripp Brimmer and Roger Riverton as tasks one and two for the day, then added pick up milk and ask Danny about a Christmas gift for Aiden. Aiden was a tough one to buy for, but Danny usually had an idea or two.

  I clicked my pen open and closed as I considered the report in my hand. Charles had been kidnapped on December 24. Belle’s out-of-town guests had left the island on December 27 and she was killed in an auto accident on December 29, just five days after her baby was kidnapped. Five days seemed much too soon to give up completely and leave the island to my mind. Could it be that there was another reason she was driving her car on icy roads in the middle of a storm? The only account of why she had been on the road was that provided by her husband. I supposed he was the logical person to ask, but the whole thing didn’t seem quite right.

  After I finished my coffee I took a quick shower and dressed in warm clothes, then gathered the cats I planned to feature in the cat lounge that day and headed into town. The snow was little more than flurries and unlikely to amount to any accumulation, but the chill in the air was enough to make me want to go home and crawl back into my bed.

  Unfortunately, returning to the warmth of my little cabin wasn’t in the cards. After settling the cats in the lounge, I helped Tara and Alex with the traffic from the first ferry of the day and then headed back out to see if I could track down Tripp and/or Finn. The two resident deputies, one retired and one active, seemed like the best place to start the day’s investigation.

  Luckily for me, I spotted Finn’s car in the parking lot and knew he was in his office. I parked on the street in front of the building and hurried inside.

  “Careful on the driving today,” Finn cautioned. “The roads are as icy as I’ve ever seen them.”

  “Yeah, I basically slid around the corner from the harbor road onto Main and I was only going five miles an hour. What I really want to do is go home and hibernate until spring, but I’m still trying to figure out what happened to Charles Pottage. Were you ever able to track down any additional reports that might have been filed after the one I have a copy of?”

  “There wasn’t a lot, but yeah, I found a few things. I was actually going to call you today.”

  “Well, here I am, saving you the trouble. What did you find?”

  Finn sorted through the files on his desk. He pulled one out of the middle of the pile and opened it.

  “Tripp Brimmer was the deputy who first responded and this is the original report Balthazar Pottage gave you a copy of. There were a couple of other reports generated after that, which I don’t believe you have. One was filed by the sheriff at the time, a man named Bud Brown. He came to many of the same conclusions Tripp did, but he seemed to think Belle Pottage knew something she wasn’t saying.”

  “Like what?” I asked. It didn’t make sense that Belle would hold anything back. Her baby was missing; what motivation could she possibly have to hide anything?

  “I don’t know. Bud never found out. She died the day after he interviewed her.”

  Okay, that was news, although I wasn’t sure what I could do with it.

  “The second report I found was from an FBI agent. He interviewed Belle on the same day as Bud. Apparently there was an anonymous call informing the agency that a baby fitting the description of Charles was spotted in Seattle four days after the kidnapping. The FBI agent came to the island to check out the situation in response to the lead, but nothing ever came of it.”

  “Do you think that baby could have been Charles?” I wondered. “If it was him that would prove someone managed to get him off the island.”

  “I don’t know. The person who called in the tip described the outfit Baby Charles was wearing when he disappeared and his description of his coloring and features were similar, but a photo of the baby had been all over the news, so it could have been a hoax.”

  “Okay, so an anonymous caller phones in a tip that results in a visit from an FBI agent. Later that day Bud interviews Belle and he comes away with the feeling she’s holding something back. Belle leaves the house in the middle of a storm the very next day. Do you think the tip and her plan to leave the island are related?”

  “Maybe. I have no way of knowing what was going through the woman’s mind, but if I had to guess I’d say they were related. Maybe she received a ransom demand and was told not to tell anyone else or the baby would die. I’m not sure we’ll ever know for certain.”

  I sat back and looked out the window at the dark sky. Not knowing what occurred wasn’t an option if I was going to save the Bayview Apartments.

  “I’m going to head over to talk to Tripp,” I informed Finn. “I’m not sure he knows anything relevant that he didn’t include in his report, but it won’t hurt to ask. Maybe talking about it will jog a memory he isn’t even aware he has.”

  “Be careful navigating the roads.”

  “I will. If you think of anything else text me.”

  I left Finn’s office and headed north. Tripp Brimmer lived in an old oceanfront home just outside of Harthaven. Although the trip would normally have taken all of ten minutes, with the icy roads and the need for caution it took me thirty. Maybe, I decided after I pulled up in front of the dark house, I should have called first. I went up to the door and knocked just to be certain he really wasn’t at home, but no one answered.

  I returned to my car and called Tara, who reported that she and Alex were fine on their own until the arrival of the next ferry. I still had a couple of hours, so I decided to see if I could track down Roger Riverton, the man who’d been hired to guard the staircase leading to the second story of the Pottage home. Fortunately, he still lived on the island and still had the same phone numb
er that was on the sheriff’s report. He told me he was heading out for an early lunch, and I arranged to meet him at the Driftwood Café.

  “Good morning, Molly,” I greeted the cashier as I walked into the warm and wonderful-smelling restaurant. “I love what you did with your window.”

  “Thanks. I think it turned out well. I had that old train set from when my kids were little and figured it would make for a festive Christmas scene. Can I get you a table?”

  “I’m meeting a man named Roger Riverton.”

  “He’s in the back. He always sits in the booth in the corner by the window.”

  “Thanks. I’ll find him.”

  I took an appreciative breath of the wonderful aromas coming from the kitchen as I walked to the back of the restaurant, where a middle-aged man was nursing a cup of coffee. It was too bad I didn’t have time to stay for lunch. My stomach was beginning to rumble at the thought of one of the hot turkey sandwiches I’d noticed were on special that day.

  “Mr. Riverton?” I asked as I approached the man in the booth.

  “You can call me Roger.”

  “I’m Cait Hart.”

  “Figured.”

  I sat down across from him.

  I decided it was best to jump right in. “As I explained on the phone, I’m looking into Charles Pottage’s kidnapping as sort of a favor to Balthazar Pottage.”

  “The old curmudgeon doesn’t deserve to have a pretty girl like you wasting your time on a problem he brought on himself,” the man responded.

  “What do you mean?” I nodded in the affirmative when a waitress asked if I wanted coffee.

  “The old miser made a living off the misfortune of others,” Roger answered. “I’m not a bit surprised someone decided to enact their revenge. Of course I did feel bad for the missus. She was a sweet woman who didn’t deserve to have her baby taken from her.”

  “Did you work for Mr. Pottage on a regular basis or were you just brought in for the day?” I asked.

  “I usually worked the front gate. There were a few of us who traded off so that coverage would be available around the clock. Mr. Pottage asked me to work inside on the day of the christening, but normally there wasn’t a guard posted inside the house.”