by Sharon Sala
“Mr. Miers,” Charlie said, acknowledging the introduction, and then took the floor. “Thank you all for your attendance. I’ll keep this brief, but I will be recording it.”
He moved back to his briefcase, pulled out a voice recorder, turned it on and set it on a coffee table in the middle of where they all were seated.
“My first question is—”
Dina immediately interrupted. “I’m sorry, but I’d prefer you sat down. You’re exceedingly tall and it’s uncomfortable having to look up.”
The tone of her voice was condescending.
Charlie’s eyes narrowed. “I am not here to pander to anyone’s comfort. I was hired to find your brother, not worry about your dissatisfaction that I’m here.”
Dina’s lips parted in shock.
Kenneth seemed ready to defend her, then obviously noticed the glint in Charlie’s eyes and changed his mind.
“Now that I have your undivided attention...I’d like to say, before I begin questioning you, take none of this personally. I don’t know anyone here, so these are questions I ask every member of a family in a case like this.”
“Ask away,” Edward said.
“Do any of you have any disagreements with Carter, whether personal or business related? Jason, I’ll start with you,” Charlie said.
Jason leaned forward. “I have none. Uncle Carter is like a father to me. He’s my mentor and taught me everything I know about the family business. I not only like him, I love him, and I’m sick at heart about what may have happened to him. I think it’s the not knowing that’s the worst. We have to find him. The company’s stability depends on it—and so does the family’s.”
Edward raised his hand to speak next, and no sooner had he begun than his voice started to tremble with emotion.
“Because I can no longer see, I am unable to help with the family business. I’ve never had an interest in running it. I used to paint, portraits mostly, but no longer. I don’t even know what we own or how it works. I have no earthly reason to wish my brother harm. He’s my best friend, and like I already told you, I miss him.”
Then he pulled out a handkerchief and blew his nose.
Dina glared at Charlie, daring him to challenge her.
Instead, he changed the subject. “Jason, how is your uncle Ted involved in the business?”
“Other than getting the same percentage of money from our shares in the corporation, not at all. He’s wealthy in his own right due to his medical practice. I’m sure you know it’s a successful one, since your wife is one of his patients.” Then he looked straight at his mother. “It’s your turn, and the longer you pout, the longer Mr. Dodge is here.”
Dina sniffed, then stared at a point on the wall just past Charlie’s right shoulder as she spoke.
“Carter and I are the closest in age. We don’t fight. But we often have disagreements. However, they have nothing to do with the business.”
“I see. So if Carter is dead, who steps into his shoes?” Charlie asked.
“Why, my son, of course. Carter trained him for that,” Dina said.
Jason shrugged. “I’m the logical choice. The way this is set up, no one but family has final votes. The board of directors is a functional entity, with Uncle Carter holding the final vote. When it comes to really major decisions, we vote within the family first, and in those situations, Uncle Carter’s vote has no more power than mine or Mother’s or Uncle Edward’s. Whichever way we vote is how Uncle Carter always votes in the board meetings. It’s a little unorthodox, but the Dunleavys hold the highest number of shares, and those are never sold. When someone in the family dies, then that person’s shares are divided equally among the remaining family members, so that none of us ever has more voting power than another. Yes, their monetary shares will increase their income, but no one in this family is hurting for money.”
Charlie listened, but he was also watching faces and expressions, and every time voting was brought up, Kenneth’s expression shifted just enough to notice. It was Charlie’s guess that it galled the man to know he would never hold power within the family.
“There’s one other question I need to ask. During my initial investigation, I discovered that Carter withdraws exactly five thousand dollars every two weeks. That’s ten thousand a month, and this has been going on for about ten years. If he’s being blackmailed, it would definitely be an angle to follow up on. Do any of you know about this?”
Edward chuckled. “Oh, that’s Carter’s poker stake. He’s been playing poker with some of his friends for years. Sometimes he wins. Sometimes he loses, but it’s his getaway from the daily grind of the job.”
Charlie smiled. “Ah...poker. Well, that explains the money angle. By chance, do you know the names of the men he plays with? He might have mentioned problems he was having to one of them.”
“Some, but not all,” Edward told him.
“I can get you a list,” Jason said. “I sit in on a game now and then.”
“Much appreciated,” Charlie said. “Thank you for taking the time to meet with me. Before I leave, how many people do you have on staff in the house on a daily basis?”
“Five, with others who come and go as needed,” Jason said. “Do you want to speak with them, as well?”
Charlie was surprised by the offer. “Yes, if I might. It wouldn’t take long. Just a couple of questions, without family present.”
Dina gasped. “They know nothing about our business. I don’t see the need to—”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Mother! Just stop. The help know everything. They see us. They hear us. They follow along behind the messes we make and clean them up. If they’ve learned anything that might help us find Uncle Carter, then I want to hear it.” Jason motioned to Charlie. “Follow me. I’ll take you straight to the kitchen. You can talk to them there, and when you’re finished, Ruth Fenway will show you out. She’s the housekeeper, and the one who answered the door.”
Charlie gathered up the recorder and his briefcase, then paused.
“Thank you for being so forthcoming. I’ll stay in touch,” he said.
As soon as they reached the kitchen, Jason nodded at the chef, then spoke to Ruth. “Would you please ask the girls to come to the kitchen? Mr. Dodge wants a word with all of you.”
“Yes, sir,” Ruth said. She took a cell phone out of her pocket and sent a group text.
Jason pointed out the chef. “Charlie, this is our chef, Peter Curtis. He’s been with us for almost ten years now.”
Curtis nodded but kept on working.
Within minutes, three women came hurrying into the kitchen, looking wild-eyed and in a panic, clearly afraid they’d done something wrong.
“You’re not in trouble,” Jason told them. “This is Charlie Dodge. I hired him to find Uncle Carter. He wants to speak with all of you. If you know anything, please tell him. Be honest. We need to find my uncle.”
The trio nodded and visibly relaxed.
“Charlie, from left to right, that’s Louise, Arnetta and Wilma.”
“Thanks,” Charlie said, and as soon as Jason cleared the doorway, he took out the recorder again and began another line of questioning.
“I’m going to throw these questions out, and if any of you know anything, please speak up. Now, are any of you aware of anything that might explain his absence?”
“No, sir,” Louise said.
“Me, neither,” Arnetta said.
“I don’t, either,” Wilma added.
“Okay...let me ask this a different way. Has anything odd happened here in the past few weeks? Anything that was out of the norm?”
Ruth raised her hand. “About a month ago, the family gathered in the library after dinner. They were having their favorite nightcaps when Mr. Carter suddenly became ill. Miss Dina had me call an ambulance, and they took him to the ER. They kept him overnight. Mr. Carter was back the next morning, but without any explanation to us. We assumed it was something other than food poisoning because no one else
was ill and they all had the same meal.”
“But what about the after-dinner drinks?” Charlie asked. “You said they had their favorite drinks. Do you mean they all choose different ones?”
Ruth nodded.
“Who makes the drinks?” Charlie asked.
Ruth shrugged. “First one of them, then another. There’s no set routine for that.”
Charlie shifted focus. “Is there any fighting among them that they don’t show in front of visitors?”
“No, sir,” Ruth said.
“Miss Dina and Mr. Carter squabble a lot,” Arnetta added. “But it’s nothing more than brother-and-sister squabbles. They don’t get angry, just disagree. It never lasts.”
“The day Carter disappeared, he drove himself to work. Did he carry anything out of the house when he left, like a suitcase or hunting gear?” Charlie asked.
They all shook their heads.
“Do you know why he drove himself that day?”
Wilma shifted nervously from one foot to the other. “I don’t...but I did overhear him calling the car service and telling them not to come, that he was driving himself.”
Charlie had a feeling they knew more than they realized. He just needed to ask the right questions.
“Who takes care of Carter’s clothing? You know, laundry, dry cleaning, repairs...that sort of thing.”
Louise raised her head. “I mostly do the hand sewing, like hems that’ve come undone or loose buttons. But his clothes are sent out to be washed and cleaned. I’m the one who deals with that.”
“Have you noticed anything missing? Like casual wear or suitcases?” Charlie asked.
“I don’t know, sir. I really haven’t been in his room other than to dust and clean since he went missing,” Louise said.
“Louise, would you do me a favor?” Charlie asked. “Would you please run up to his room right now and look through his things. See if you notice anything that strikes you as odd. Check and see if he has socks and underwear missing. Look for jackets and shoes that aren’t there. Look for missing luggage. I’ll wait.”
“Yes, sir,” Louise said and left the kitchen at a hasty pace.
“Would you care for a cup of coffee while you wait?” Ruth asked.
“I made strawberry tarts yesterday. There are some left, if you care to have them with your coffee,” Peter offered.
“I will if you’ll all join me,” Charlie said.
Within a couple of minutes, they were having coffee and strawberry tarts together at the long worktable while Charlie listened to their chatter.
About ten minutes later, Louise returned, and Charlie knew when he saw her face that she had news.
“What’s gone?” he asked.
She put a hand to her chest to calm her racing heart, then took a breath.
“Two suitcases are gone. So are underwear and socks. His shaving kit is missing. None of the clothes he wears to work have been touched, but the clothes he hunts and fishes in have been sorted through. It took me a while to figure all that out, but at a guess, I’d say there are at least two weeks’ worth of casual clothes missing, including shoes. And he always had an iPad in the drawer next to his bed. He read books on it and used it to answer personal email, as well. It’s gone.”
Charlie’s hunch had paid off. This was leaning more toward the likelihood that Carter wasn’t kidnapped, but on the run. Now he had to figure out where he’d gone and why he was running.
“This is great. You’ve been very helpful,” he said, as he turned off the recorder. “Now I need all of you to do me a favor, and it’s very important.”
They glanced at one another, then back at Charlie and nodded in agreement.
This was gut instinct on Charlie’s part, but it was strong enough not to ignore.
“Don’t tell any of the family what you’ve told me, because if Carter felt he had to leave this house to stay safe, then I don’t want anyone in the family to know he did this. If he felt safe, they would all have known why he’s gone. Understand?”
They nodded.
He saw the shock in their eyes and was satisfied they’d keep quiet.
“Peter, Louise missed out on the coffee and tarts. I think she deserves a little break, too, don’t you?” Charlie asked next.
“Absolutely,” the chef said, setting her up as Ruth took him back to the front door.
“Thank you for your time, ma’am,” Charlie said.
Ruth nodded. “Of course. We all like working for Mr. Carter. We’ve been most upset about his disappearance. I hope you find him.”
“I’ll find him,” Charlie said and went back to his car.
He’d heard his phone signal a text while he was having coffee, but he’d purposely waited until he was alone to read it. Jason had come through for him. It was the list of names and contact info for Carter’s poker partners.
He emailed the text to his office, along with instructions for Wyrick to check them out. Even though these guys were supposedly old friends, when losing large sums of money was involved, friendships often went begging.
The next item to check off on Charlie’s list was exploring the area around the intersection where Carter had gone missing. He had the police reports on every place that was searched, but looking at them from a different perspective could yield new leads, so he set the address in his GPS and drove there.
Six
Dodge Investigations was receiving the usual influx of requests for Charlie’s services, which kept Wyrick busy making notes about each one for Charlie to review. She already knew which cases he would take, and the ones he’d pass over, but it wasn’t her job to inform these would-be clients.
Despite the searches she’d made this morning, she hadn’t found any new answers or leads, so when she received his email with a new list of names to research, she abandoned the sandwich she’d been eating and started with the basic background checks. She was still at the computer when the doorbell rang.
She frowned. Without knowing Charlie’s personal habits, she had no way of knowing if he often received visitors. As a result she was cautious as she went to look through the peephole. When she saw a courier’s uniform, the first thing she thought was, They found me again, but she still opened the door.
The courier nodded. “Afternoon, ma’am. I have a package for Charlie Dodge.”
“I’ll sign for it,” Wyrick said.
He handed her the iPad.
She signed her name, then took the package and shut the door. It didn’t have a return address, so she laid it at the back of the kitchen counter where she’d been putting his mail, and returned to the poker players.
* * *
Charlie headed toward the area around the Amtrak station, found a nearby place to park. He put on sunglasses and his Texas Ranger baseball cap, grabbed his gear and made his way to the DaVita Hotel parking garage.
The yellow pullover shirt he was wearing hung loose outside the waistband of his jeans. He liked the shirt because it was comfortable. But between his imposing stature and long lanky stride, he realized he stood out like a flashing beacon in the foot traffic.
He intended to cover the whole area around the intersection where they’d lost track of Carter, but he’d decided his first destination would be the garage adjoining the DaVita Hotel. During the initial police search, they’d come across two black Lexus cars in the garage like the one Carter Dunleavy had been driving. Neither had Carter’s license plate number. According to the police file, one had Just Married written on the back window, with ribbons and deflating balloons tied to the bumper. The other had Wash Me written in the dust on the lid of the trunk.
What he hadn’t found in the police files were any notes about checking the camera footage inside the parking garage, or notes on whether or not the people who owned those cars were in the hotel. That omission didn’t sit well with Charlie. He was a careful man. It was what had kept him alive in Afghanistan, and it was what made him so good at the job he was doing now. He knew the cars wou
ldn’t still be there, but he wanted to see their locations and—if it still existed—the footage from the hotel’s security cameras.
The stoplight was red as he got to the intersection, so he paused near the curb, waiting for the walk signal. There were about a half-dozen others also waiting, including a little boy who looked up at Charlie and was so obviously taken aback by his height that he kept staring.
Charlie pulled his glasses down just enough to make eye contact and winked.
The little boy grinned.
The light changed, and the little boy’s mother tightened her grip on his hand as they hurried across the intersection. Charlie pushed his glasses back in place and stepped off into the crosswalk on his way to the parking garage.
He took off his sunglasses when he entered the garage and stuck them in his shirt pocket as he oriented himself to the layout. According to the police investigation, one Lexus was on the second level and the other on the third, so he started walking.
Once he reached Level Two, he reread the report to confirm where the first Lexus had been parked, and began looking for security cameras as he went. Minutes later, he found the location and scouted the area for the cameras; he made notes before continuing up toward the third level.
Along the way, he saw people parking and leaving the garage in haste, most of them likely in a hurry to catch the train. There were others coming to get their cars and drive away. Several people eyed him curiously, and a few women who were walking alone seemed nervous, even anxious, when they saw him. The mere fact that he was a man and that this was what frightened them made him sad, and at the same time, pissed off at men in general who’d caused them to feel that way. He didn’t make eye contact and kept referring to his iPad in an effort to reassure them that he had a purpose for being there and was not a predator.
When he finally reached the third level, he was just getting ready to start searching when his phone rang. It was Wyrick.
“Hello.”
“It’s me. I finished a basic search on the poker players and attached it to an email. I could have sent you that info in a text, but you also received a package via courier today. I assumed it would be a personal package since this is not our official office, and no one knows we’re working from your home. I felt it necessary to let you know this arrived, in case you were awaiting receipt or need whatever is in it.”
