The Curious Case of the Missing Figurehead: A Novel (A Professor and Mrs. Littlefield Mystery)

by Diane Noble

  Hyacinth seemed too moved to speak. Instead, she stepped toward him and gave him a hug.

  They’d been debriefed by a deputy and were now free to leave. Almost as if ticking off a list, details came together and questions were answered. The decision was made to impound the rental truck and check for prints or anything else that might lead to the kingpin who had put the theft together.

  It was assumed, now, that the poisoning was directly related, and that it was indeed ipecac. One of the deputies drove Hyacinth home. Max and the sheriff agreed that until the head of the organization was captured, it would be foolish to take the figurehead back to the university for exhibition. The sheriff offered him a secure room with a large safe in which to keep the Lady temporarily, and Max nodded his assent.

  As the uniformed men headed to the truck to move the crate, Max went over to El.

  “I just tried to get Katie again.”

  “Still no answer?”

  She shook her head. “I’m going to run by her apartment.”

  “Do you want me to go with you?” He needed to oversee the positioning of the figurehead, but suddenly—or maybe not so suddenly—El had become more important.

  She laid her hand on his arm and shook her head. “You’ve got things to do.” She nodded toward the men moving the crate from the rental truck. “I’ll call you later.”

  She stood on her tiptoes, and he kissed her.

  “I like that,” she said, smiling into his eyes.

  He found himself grinning like a schoolboy. “So do I.” The feeling in his heart was so new to him he didn’t know what to do. Except—if he could—turn cartwheels across the parking lot, an image that caused him to grin again.

  Chapter Thirty-eight

  Mrs. Littlefield

  I hurried through the security gate leading into Katie’s complex. Her condo was on the ground level toward the back on the far side of a greenbelt. Even though it had grown dark, no lights shone in her windows.

  Stomach churning, I knocked loudly on Katie’s door, called her name, and rang her doorbell, nearly all at once in my frantic state.

  I paced back and forth in front of her door, and then pounded on the door again.

  Katie’s neighbor stepped out of her unit and gave me a curious look. “Oh, it’s you, Mrs. Littlefield,” she said. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m looking for Katie,” I said. “And Chloe Grace.”

  She walked over to me. “I haven’t seen them since this morning when they left together. They seemed quite upbeat, especially your little granddaughter. She told me her mama had gotten the day off, and that they were going someplace special, she didn’t know where.”

  I frowned. Katie hadn’t said anything to me about a surprise, but I’d been gone all day and unreachable by phone for much of the time. “Were they carrying duffel bags or totes or anything like that? Could they have been planning to spend the night somewhere?”

  “Chloe Grace had that cute little ballerina sock monkey.” She narrowed her eyes. “Though now that I think about it, Katie was carrying a couple of totes and big bright towels like maybe they were going to the beach.” She shrugged. “That is rather odd, don’t you think? We don’t have a beach around here, do we?”

  Beach? My heart thudded a little harder. Something didn’t ring true. “Beach?” I said. I tried to calm my frazzled nerves, telling myself that at least Katie and Chloe Grace had been seen recently.

  I thanked her and headed back to the gate. The sky continued to darken as I walked to the catering van. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure I wasn’t being followed. The last phone call from the mechanical voice, chanting the childish phrases, had me spooked. I couldn’t deny it.

  What if they—and I didn’t even know who “they” could be—had taken my girls? What would be their motive? I pondered the question for a moment or two and then stopped with a gasp. What if they wanted to exchange them for the figurehead? The thought sliced through me like a knife.

  The window on the van’s driver’s side had been destroyed, so I had no way of locking the vehicle. I flipped on the interior light to check for intruders. A noise in the cargo area made my hair stand on end.

  I didn’t breathe until a yellow tabby meowed and jumped back out the window.

  Katie and I live on opposite sides of town, so it took me a good half hour to reach home. As I turned into my driveway, the visible effects of the earlier blast greeted me. Someone had raked up the debris, and I wondered if a neighbor or Enrique’s brother Juan had performed the good deed. The thought cheered me somewhat, but the scarred dogwood and partially destroyed rose arbor left harsh reminders.

  I unlocked my front door, stepped inside, and then pushed the deadbolt into place. I walked to the kitchen to check my voice mail. I picked up the receiver. Two beeps told me I had two messages. I checked caller ID and saw both calls were from Katie.

  I punched my password into the keypad and listened to Katie’s first message.

  “Hi, Mom, just wanted you to know C .G. and I are going away with Sandy for the day. He and I arranged a little surprise for her—a trip on his boat. We’re excited about it, and hope you’ll be excited for us too. But don’t worry, I’ll be smart about everything.”

  I sank into a chair at the kitchen table. Sandy was moving too fast. My heart pounded a little harder as I waited to hear the second message.

  “Gramsy,” chirped Chloe Grace. “I’m so sad I didn’t get to tell you good-bye. But I’m sooooo excited about Mommy’s surprise. I get to go sailing! Mommy’s friend has a big, big boat. It’s in Wilmy-something. Yay! I wish you could come too.”

  Then Katie took the phone again and added, “Well, you’ll know where we are when you get home. I’ll call you if I can. I’ve got my cell on me, but service in some of the areas we’ll be driving through is spotty. Love you, Mom. Keep praying that we make the right decision, even if it’s to move forward slowly.” She laughed lightly. “You know, one step at a time.”

  I hung up the phone and dropped my head into my hands. That was how she got through the divorce, one step at a time. I’d prayed with her, held her as she wept, and together we tried to focus on the good things. Now she was opening herself up to more hurt. I drew in a deep breath, trying to push away my fears for Katie and Chloe Grace.

  I checked the clock and weighed my choices, my hand hovering to pick up the phone again. It was late but not that late. She did want to talk with me, and I would be returning her call. So technically that wouldn’t be meddling, would it?

  In the end, I decided I would call in the morning. Right now, I wanted nothing more than a hot bath and to slip into bed. When I did talk to Katie, I would try my best to be supportive and let her make her own decisions. Then I thought of Chloe Grace, and that vow slipped away in an instant. My arms ached to hug her.

  What if Sandy and Katie reconciled? He had just taken a new position with a pharmaceutical company near the coast. I couldn’t imagine him moving to Eden’s Gate and giving that up. Oh my heavens, I thought, standing wearily. I might lose them both.

  With that thought nagging at my heart, I went upstairs to take my bath. I was just settling under the bubbles to enjoy a long, fragrant soak when something that had been niggling at the back of my mind returned. The puzzle pieces began settling into patterns.

  Quickly, I soaped and rinsed and almost leaped out of the bathtub. I wrapped myself in a towel and padded across the carpet to my bedside table, where I saw the copy of the threatening note I had received.

  And where was it that Chloe Grace said they were heading? Wilmy … Wilmy? Could she have meant Wilmington?

  William MacDonald, who sent Max’s father the letter about the figurehead, was from Wilmington. Coincidence? Or not?

  I sat on my bed, putting the pieces together in my mind. The salvage ship Max was on last summer had also been out of Wilmington.
Everyone on board knew about the half-million-dollar value of the figurehead. Had one of the crew discovered that there was also millions of dollars worth of treasure hidden inside? More pieces flew into place.

  Then there were the personal details. The person who was behind all of this obviously knew how much I loved my daughter and granddaughter, and my fears about fire. Katie knew all about them. She might have mentioned them to Sandy when they were married or during one of their recent talks.

  Sandy? He couldn’t be involved … could he? I was feeling so many emotions all at once, and a knot formed in my stomach. I didn’t care for him because of how he had treated my daughter and granddaughter, but was he capable of this?

  Yet, I couldn’t ignore the connection: Sandy. Wilmington. Pharmaceuticals.

  Where had the ipecac come from? Brazil was a huge supplier. I’d done enough research to come up with a scenario. A ship could have docked at a legitimate port to pick up merchandise—ninety-nine percent for legal sale, one percent for the street. The legal drugs head for a drug company. The illegal drugs to a supplier. The question was: Who was that supplier?

  Still wrapped in my towel and sitting on the bed, I leaned forward, shivering.

  As I picked up the bedside phone to call Max, the phone rang in my hand.

  “Mrs. Littlefield?” said the mechanical voice. “Do you remember the note?”

  My heart started to thud so hard I couldn’t breathe. “Of course,” I finally managed.

  “We have your daughter and your granddaughter. Do you understand?”

  My body began to tremble like an autumn leaf in a windstorm—ready to fall. I brought my elbows into my sides, wrapping my free arm around the other and held on tight. Lord, have mercy …

  “What do you want?” My voice came out in a whispery squeak.

  “What do you think?” A bizarre laugh followed. “We are going to make a trade. Your family for the figurehead. I will give you an address by noon tomorrow. You get the figurehead from wherever it’s being held, transport it in a rental truck of your choice, safe and secure, and we will make the exchange. You are to bring no one with you, or there will be serious consequences.”

  I drew in a deep breath, my eyes closed, trying not to think of my granddaughter, my daughter, and all they meant to me. Only the world. “What is the address?”

  “You will find out tomorrow after you have secured the figurehead. We will call you. And Mrs. Littlefield, you are to come alone. You will tell no in law enforcement.”

  “I … I won’t, but I don’t … ha-have a cell phone.”

  “Now you do. You will find it on your front porch.”

  A wave, make that a tsunami, of fear swept over me as I imagined that someone might still be out there in the shadows, watching me.

  “Let me speak to my daughter,” I said, finding my voice. “I need to know my family’s okay.”

  “How about the little one instead? Come here, little one,” he said, his voice still disguised. A minute later, Chloe Grace came on the line. “Gramsy, I wish you were here. This is the best boat I’ve ever seen. It’s beautiful—”

  “Sweetie, are you okay?”

  “I love this big boat, Gramsy. And the ocean is pretty.”

  The ocean? Had they already set sail? Fear knotted inside her. “Let me talk to your mommy, okay?”

  Chloe Grace didn’t answer. After some scuffling sounds, the disguised voice came back on the line.

  “You got it, Mrs. Littlefield? Tomorrow noon. Without fail. Or you will never see your family again.”

  The following morning, in the predawn light, I turned the catering van into the lot at the sheriff’s station. I parked near the door, got out, and turned when I heard footsteps.

  Max strode over to greet me. We’d been on the phone half the night, planning our strategy. His laugh lines drooped a bit from fatigue, but I’d never seen a more handsome—or welcome—face.

  He drew me into his arms. “I’ve thought about it all night, and I’m not letting you do this alone.”

  “I have to, Max. Katie’s and Chloe Grace’s lives are at stake. I don’t have a choice.”

  “I can ride in back, hidden from view.”

  I thought of Hyacinth’s recent adventure and smiled. “It means a lot that you would do this, but I really do need to do as they say.” I reached up and touched his cheek. He caught my hand, held it there, and then kissed my palm.

  “I’ve seen you in action,” he said. “So I know you’re more than capable. I just want to be there if you need me.”

  “I’ll be careful, I promise. I have a lot to come home to.”

  I didn’t want to think about what could go wrong with the deception we’d planned—a borrowed life-size angel statue from the Christmas crèche at Max’s church. It weighed about the same as the figurehead and Max told me its face was beautiful enough that it might pass for the Lady. If we packed the angel statue just right, we might just pull off the ruse. I couldn’t bear to think what might happen if the kidnappers found out I’d double-crossed them.

  “I brought you coffee,” he said, and handed me a travel thermos. He looked reluctant to leave. “I need to go oversee the packing of the ‘figurehead.’” He hugged me, drawing to me as if he never wanted to let go. I blinked a few times, trying hard to keep from tearing up. “My thoughts and prayers will be with you.”

  Then cold reality hit. I was leaving safety behind and heading into a life-and-death situation. My decisions would tip the scales one direction or the other. Icy fear wrapped itself around my heart.

  Minutes later, four men carried the Christmas angel in its crate to the back of the truck, slid it in, and slammed the rear door closed. I climbed into the cab and started the engine.

  The air was heavy with moisture, and thunderstorms loomed.

  I had just turned onto Main Street, wondering if I should head to the interstate when the phone rang. I made a quick right turn into a service station with room to park the monster rental truck.

  “Yes?”

  “Here are your instructions.” The mechanical voice gave me step-by-step directions to Wilmington on Interstate 40. From there, I was to proceed to the Cape Fear River Road and then drive south. The voice then said, “You will be contacted with further instructions when you arrive,” and then disconnected the call.

  I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to overcome my panic and toss it out the window. I had to find my courage. A great thing to strive for, but I was still shaking. I tried praying, but my words seemed to bounce off the ceiling. I thought of Max’s one-word prayers and simply uttered Help! Even that seemed to bounce back as if tethered by my fear for Katie and Chloe Grace.

  I put the truck in gear, pressed on the gas, and sped up the ramp onto Interstate 40.

  The closer I came to Wilmington and the turnoff to Cape Fear River Road, the more my adrenaline began to kick in. I tried listening to talk radio, but the rapid-fire commentary only increased my anxiety. I tried a bit of Coltrane, a whole lot of Beethoven, and NPR segments from the car guys, but finally settled on silence.

  The phone rang, and though I was expecting it, I nearly jumped out of my skin. I looked for a wide spot on the side of the road and pulled off onto the shoulder. My hand trembled as I reached for the phone.

  “Yes?”

  “Where are you?” demanded the voice.

  I told him.

  “You are making good progress. You will need to take the exit for Cape Fear River Road, and turn south.” He continued to give me complicated directions that included side roads and traveling by ferry across the Cape Fear River to Southport. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes,” I said, my knees again threatening to turn to rubber.

  “Are you being followed?”

  “No, I … I don’t think so.”

  “The only way you can sav
e the lives of your daughter and granddaughter is to play it straight. We will deal with any attempt to double-cross us with swift and deadly force.” The phone went dead.

  I swallowed hard and considered my situation. Not good. I almost laughed when it hit me. I didn’t like this guy’s intimidating attitude. I decided I’d had about enough of it.

  I leaned forward, hitting the gas pedal harder, and watching for the Cape Fear exit.

  Now my brain had to work overtime to come up with a plan. I should have been doing that all along instead of trying to soothe my achingly worried thoughts with music, NPR, and prayer. Well, the prayer wasn’t a waste of time.

  I went over my assets. Besides my own wits, what tools did I have in my arsenal? I had my kit of tools and my binoculars, always handy to have along. I was nimble and good at surprise attacks; I could sound tougher than I am; I could play the sweet-little-lady role quite successfully, throwing people off guard. I could think fast on my feet. I didn’t believe in weaponry, but I had used cherry bombs quite effectively in the past, and I always carry them in my tool kit.

  I came to the Cape Fear exit, signaled, and drove down the off-ramp. I turned left and jostled along, watching for the first side road that would lead me to the ferry crossing. It took about a half hour, but I finally saw the ferry looming on the horizon.

  It had grown more humid by the hour, and when I rolled down the window to buy my ticket, the air felt heavy and damp.

  “Round trip?” the man in the booth asked.

  “Yes,” I said and handed him a bill.

  He gave me change, and smiled. “Y’all have a good day now.”

  I almost laughed at the odds. “You too,” I said and drove down to the ramp to await boarding.

  I continued going over my plans as I drove onto the ferry, and then again as I drove up the ramp on the Southport side of the river. Lightning flashed in the dark sky, and large drops of rain began to splat against the windshield.