by J A Whiting
“I’m trying a new petit-fours recipe.” Finch leaned over the tray with squinted eyes. “There is raspberry filling in the middle with a layer of buttercream frosting over it. After I cut the cake into squares, I will ladle the icing over each one and let it harden. For the last step, I will use pink frosting to pipe a tiny rose in the center of each of the petit-fours.”
Angie rested her arms on the kitchen island. “They look heavenly.”
“They will be our after-dinner dessert this evening.” Finch smiled. “I would like honest feedback on the recipe.”
“I can’t wait.” Angie’s mouth watered.
Circe ran her pink tongue quickly over her tiny upper lip as Euclid trilled causing Angie and Finch to chuckle.
“Cats might get a small piece.” Angie scratched both animals’ cheeks.
“What about us?” Tom said as he and Jenna entered the kitchen.
“I would like everyone’s opinion on the new sweets,” Finch said.
“Smells terrific in here.” Tom nodded appreciatively when Courtney announced what was baking in the oven. “I haven’t had mac and cheese for a long time.”
“Where’s Ellie?” Jenna sat down on the stool next to Circe.
Angie looked up. “She said she was going to change her shirt and meet me in here.” Glancing to the doorway, she added, “That was a while ago.”
“Maybe she fell asleep.” Courtney smiled while she rinsed broccoli in the strainer at the sink. “Making that wedding dress is going to kill her.”
“I can’t wait to try it on,” Jenna said. “Ellie told me it will be ready soon.”
“It better be or you won’t be wearing it to the wedding,” Tom joked. He carried two cups of coffee to the island and placed one in front of Jenna.
“I’m going to see what’s keeping her.” Angie left the kitchen and walked to the foyer. As she put her foot on the first tread of the stairs, through the open front door, she heard voices coming from the front porch and sidled up to the window to get a peek outside.
Sitting side by side in rocking chairs, Ellie and Rachel were twisted in their seats to face one another and Angie could see from their expressions that they were having a very serious conversation.
12
Angie returned to the kitchen.
“Did you find our missing sister?” Courtney asked.
“She’s with a guest.” Angie didn’t know why she had such a strong feeling of unease. “She and Rachel are talking on the porch.”
All eyes turned to Angie, including those of the cats.
Courtney whirled around holding a wooden spoon in her hand. “Is the conversation general chit-chat or is there more to it than that?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t hear what they were saying.”
“Well….” Courtney stepped away from the stove. “What about their body language, facial expression? Were they smiling? Did they look serious? Did Rachel look upset?”
Courtney’s questions were interrupted by a knock on the open door leading to the mudroom. Chief Martin stood holding his hat in one hand and a manila envelope in the other. “The back door was unlocked. I rang the bell, but no one answered.”
“Come in.” A shiver of anxiety ran through Angie. “The door is always open for you.”
“We didn’t hear the bell.” Courtney removed a pan of roasted broccoli from the oven. “We’d better check that it’s working.”
Jenna poured the chief a cup of coffee. “Sit with us.” The cats jumped off the stools to free one up for the chief.
“You have some news for us?” Mr. Finch voiced what everyone was thinking.
Chef Martin nodded as he watched Courtney lifting the pans of macaroni and cheese from the oven. “I’m disturbing your dinner.” He started to rise from his seat. “I’ll come by later this evening.”
“Nonsense.” Finch waved his hand in the air. “Join us.”
“Would you like to call Lucille and have her come over, too?” Jenna asked.
“Lucille went to Coveside with her sister to do some shopping.”
“Then you’re free to stay and eat with us.” Angie smiled despite the worried feeling she got when her eyes flicked to the envelope the chief had placed on the counter next to him.
“Okay.” A grin spread over the man’s face. “You’ve all twisted my arm.”
Mr. Finch finished his petit-fours while Angie and Jenna carried food out to the dining room. Tom and Chief Martin talked sports as they set the dining room table.
Angie took a quick glance toward the porch from the window to see if Ellie and Rachel were still outside, but she couldn’t see from her angle. As if to answer her question, the front door opened and Ellie came in. “Sorry I didn’t help with dinner, I got held up.”
“Yammering with Rachel?” One of Courtney’s eyebrows went up.
“Would Rachel like to have dinner with us?” Jenna asked.
Ellie shook her head. “She went to do an errand.”
Angie sidled up to her sister. “Is everything okay?”
Ellie gave a quick nod as she took her seat at the table. “Rachel was just voicing her concerns about living in the ranch house.”
The chief took a hearty helping of the macaroni and cheese. “I feel guilty. I’m eating here two nights this week.”
“We’ll send you a bill.” Courtney told the chief about the dinner menu for Friday night. “That way, everybody can make their pizza just the way they like it. What do you think?”
“I think it’s a great idea.” Chief Martin lifted a forkful of macaroni. “Lucille loves pizza. She’ll be excited about it.”
The group enjoyed their meals as genial discussion filled the air and chit chat moved from topic to topic on town news, the weather, the coming tourist season, and the approaching wedding.
“How are the plans coming?” the chief asked.
Jenna dabbed her lips with a napkin. “Most everything is set. We’re having an outside ceremony at the resort, then we’ll move to the terrace for drinks and appetizers.”
“Then dinner and dancing in the resort’s dining room,” Tom added.
“We invited a few friends from Boston and Tom’s friends from the area,” Jenna told the chief. “It will be small, though, since neither of us have many family members.”
“Sounds great.” Chief Martin smiled. “Lucille can’t wait. She’s in a fuss about what to wear. That’s what she’s shopping for down in Coveside this evening. It’s a lot easier for us guys, throw on a suit and we’re good to go.”
“Maybe all of us should wear suits.” Courtney reached for more carrots.
After the meal was finished and the dishes cleared, Mr. Finch carried in a platter of petit-fours and passed them around for the taste-test which resulted in unanimous glowing reviews. The cats each received a small saucer with a piece of the dessert which they quickly gobbled up. A trill of enjoyment preceded the licking of paws and washing of faces.
When tea and coffee were served, the chief drew himself up. “I guess I’ve put it off long enough.”
The people around the table knew what he meant and some shifted uncomfortably in their seats.
“What news do you have for us?” Angie asked.
“We’ve been unable to determine the garage person’s identity. An anthropologist came up from Boston to assist in the examination. The medical examiner and the anthropologist believe the person, probably a man judging from the preliminary exam and the clothing on the deceased, has been dead for about five to six years.”
“Really?” Courtney’s eyes widened. “It only took six years for him to, you know, get mummified?”
“The conditions were right. The automobile was kept in a warm, dry place.”
“That wasn’t around here then,” Angie noted. “It’s humid here in the summer and cold in the winter.”
The chief said, “That garage is temperature-controlled. It’s heated and has a dehumidifier inside.”
“Did the man die in
the car?” Ellie twisted her napkin in her hands.
“The man was either killed in the car, although that’s doubtful, or was placed in the car after he was killed.”
“So he was killed?” Jenna sighed. “I hoped maybe he just passed away naturally.”
“Was the medical examiner able to tell how the man was killed?” Tom questioned.
“Gunshot.” Chief Martin rubbed the side of the face. “Close range. It seems the bullet went through the aorta. There would have been a lot of blood. The car is still being examined. When that analysis is concluded, there will be a determination if the man was killed in or out of the vehicle. Right now, it appears that there is no blood in the car at all so the man had to have been shot elsewhere and put in the vehicle at a later date.”
Angie didn’t want to bring it up, but she asked, “What was the envelope you brought with you? Is it something related to this case?”
“It is,” Chief Martin said with a grave tone. “As I told you, a forensic artist came up to town. The woman is a relative of one of our officers. We don’t usually have the need for someone with such talents, but in this case we thought it might be helpful to ask for a forensic artist. The woman provided her services free of charge.” The chief rose from his seat. “A copy of the sketch is in the envelope. I’ll go get it.”
No one spoke while the chief went to the kitchen and returned with the portrait. He sat, slipped the drawing from the envelope, and put it face-up in the center of the table. Everyone gazed at the picture and then handed it quietly from one to the other for closer inspection.
The face of the drawing was that of a middle-aged man with slim, sharp features, high cheek bones, and a wide forehead. A long nose and close set eyes completed the image.
The chief told the group, “The artist added a simple hairstyle, making an educated guess from the remaining hair on the person’s head what the length and style might be. She was satisfied that it was a fairly accurate depiction.”
Ellie had her hand on her stomach. “It’s awful … staring at the face of this man and knowing something about his sad end.”
“The photo will be distributed to the media?” Finch asked.
“It will. Tomorrow we’ll hold a press conference and release it. Maybe someone will see the picture and will be able to provide some information. Fingers crossed.”
The front door opened and Rachel walked in and paused for a moment when she saw the group sitting in the dining room around the table. “Oh, hi.”
“Are you hungry?” Angie asked. “We have lots of food. Come sit and join us.”
“I don’t know.” Rachel hesitated, looking from face to face.
“I’ll get another place setting.” Courtney stood up and pulled out the chair next to her. “You can sit here.”
Rachel gave a little smile and a nod. “If you don’t mind.”
“The more the merrier,” Tom said.
Courtney took a plate and silverware from the China cabinet and placed them on the table in front of Rachel. “I’ll heat up the food and be back in a second.”
The chief looked at the young woman across from him. “Have you been back to the rental house?”
Rachel put the napkin in her lap. “I haven’t yet. I’m going back tomorrow. Angie’s going with me.” She brushed her bangs from her eyes. “I didn’t want to go back alone the first time.”
The chief understood Rachel’s concerns. “I’d be glad to meet you there if it would make you feel better.”
“That’s very nice of you, but I think I’ll be okay with Angie’s company.”
“I’m going to go with you, too.” Ellie smiled.
“I’m glad. Thanks,” Rachel told her.
“Have some petit-fours while you wait for the food to be ready.” Jenna passed the platter to Rachel. “Mr. Finch is looking for feedback on them.”
Rachel reached for one of the sweets and noticed the drawing on the table. The picture was upside down from the young woman’s view.
The chief saw Rachel’s notice of the drawing and picked it up. “A forensic artist did a sketch of the man from the garage. Would you like to see it or would you rather not?”
“I can look at it.” Rachel’s voice was soft as she gingerly reached for the piece of paper and put it down next to her plate. When her gaze fell on the drawing, a terrible choking noise escaped her throat and her shaking hand flew to cover her mouth. With her eyes bugging from their sockets, they began to roll back in her head. Rachel tried to grip the edge of the table, but her attempt to steady herself failed and, as she lost consciousness, she slid out of her chair and hit the floor with a thud.
13
Courtney entered the dining room carrying a tray of warmed vegetables and macaroni and cheese just as Rachel hit the floor. Everyone jumped to their feet, but Jenna was the first to reach the fallen young woman.
Kneeling beside her, Jenna spoke gently as she pushed the hair from the unconscious woman’s face. “Rachel, can you hear me?”
Chief Martin knelt on the other side and lifted Rachel’s wrist to check for a pulse.
Tom held a glass of water waiting for Rachel to come to, while Ellie stood next to Mr. Finch, her hand gripping the man for support.
Euclid and Circe had leapt from the cabinet to the floor and watched the commotion from a few yards away.
Angie stood behind Jenna staring down at Rachel. “Should I call an ambulance?”
As soon as the words were spoken, Rachel’s eyelids fluttered. “Oh,” she said as she attempted to push herself into sitting position.
The chief held her arm and helped her. “Sit for a minute. Don’t try to stand up right away.”
Rachel put her hand to her eyes and let out a moan. “How can it be?” Tears fell onto her lap.
Angie and Mr. Finch exchanged a look.
Tom passed the glass of water to Jenna and she offered Rachel a sip. Clutching the glass, the young woman brought it to her lips, sipped, and handed it back to Jenna. “Thank you,” she managed.
“Ready to move to the chair?” the chief asked.
After giving a slight nod, Rachel was hoisted to her feet by Tom and Chief Martin who gently helped her into the chair. Courtney got a box of tissues and put it next to Rachel.
The sketch of the man from the garage rested on the tabletop and when Rachel spotted it, she covered her eyes and let out a cry. Angie quickly took the picture and handed it to Mr. Finch. Opening the manila envelope, Finch pushed the drawing inside and out of sight.
Chief Martin sat down next to Rachel. “How do you feel? It might be a good idea to go to the hospital to be checked out.”
Rachel lifted her face and Angie could see the odd look in her eyes. With her hands clutched into tight fists and her breathing ragged and shallow, Rachel didn’t respond … it seemed like she hadn’t heard what the chief said.
Angie touched her shoulder. “Rachel, I think we should take you to the emergency room to have you looked at.”
Rachel put a hand on her stomach and shook her head. “I don’t need a doctor.”
“I think--” Angie began, but Rachel cut her off.
“I don’t need to go to the hospital.” Rachel glanced at the manila folder on the table.
“Miss Rachel,” Mr. Finch spoke with a gentle tone. “By some chance, did you recognize the man in the drawing?”
Everyone around the table stared at Finch … for a moment, each person considered that the man’s idea was outlandish.
Rachel’s lower lip quivered and tears poured from her eyes as she gave a nod.
“Who is it?” Ellie’s voice was nearly a whisper.
Rachel took in a long breath. “It’s my father.”
After a minute of complete silence, the family members and the chief settled into their seats, dumbfounded. Circe jumped onto Rachel’s lap to comfort her and the young woman stroked the cat’s soft fur.
“How?” was all Ellie could manage.
“Your father’s been
missing?” Jenna asked.
Rachel closed her eyes for a second and when she opened them again, she leaned back against the chair and sat straight, seeming to steel herself for what she needed to discuss. She coughed to clear her throat. “My father went missing six years ago. He came to New England six summers ago and never came home.”
“What is your father’s name?” the chief questioned.
“Milton. Milton Marsten.”
“Would you tell us about him?” the chief asked.
With shaky fingers, Rachel pushed at her bangs. “When he went missing, he was fifty years old. He lived in West Virginia all of his life. My dad worked as an attorney, he ran a lot of his business out of our house. He handled divorces, but he also took care of wills, estates, financial planning, things like that.”
“Why did your father travel to New England?” Angie asked.
“He told us that an old friend from his younger days had been in touch with him. A man who had made millions in business. The friend wanted advice from someone he could trust so he called on Dad. My father didn’t know very much about what the friend was concerned about, but suspected it had to do with a divorce. Dad took some time off to drive up here.” Rachel’s face looked as if it was about to melt, but she held it together. “Dad stopped calling not long after he reached his destination. We never heard from him again.”
“Where was his destination? Sweet Cove?” the chief asked.
“No. He went to Marion Island, the small island off the coast. He said he would get the ferry from Sweet Cove.”
“Did he tell you that he’d arrived at the island?” Chief Martin’s forehead was creased.
“Yes, he told my mother he’d arrived and was staying at a small inn.”
“You heard from him again after that?” The chief had pulled out a small notebook and was writing down the information.
“I think he called twice the next day, then not again.”
“Your mother called the police in the area?”
“She did. My mom flew to Boston and rented a car to drive up the coast. The police looked into it. My father’s car was never found.”
