Storm of Secrets

by Loretta Marion

  “Have you made any interesting discoveries yet?” I was both curious and yet a little protective of Barnacle Boy’s story. After all, he was as much a part of the Mitchell family lore as were Percy and Celeste.

  “Perhaps.” There was a twinkle in his eyes. “But I’m not yet ready to reveal anything.”

  * * *

  Laura headed out shortly after Edgar and Jimmy left, and Daniel was getting ready to leave when Brooks’s cruiser turned the corner of our long lane. Whistler ran to greet him, knowing there’d be a treat.

  “Glad I caught you,” Brooks said to Daniel after tossing the dog his biscuit. “Where’s Savage?”

  “He left a while ago for a walk with his dog,” I answered.

  Daniel asked, “What’s up?”

  “Couple of things.” Brooks folded his arms and leaned against the cruiser. “First, there’s been significant damage to his beach cottage. He can’t go back until the roof’s been repaired and inspected.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “Hard to say. Construction companies will have their hands full for a while.”

  “He can stay in the carriage house until our next renter arrives,” I offered.

  “That would be great. I’d like him to be somewhere one of us can keep an eye on him.”

  “Are you considering him a suspect?” Daniel asked.

  “More like a person of interest. Jason did some digging and discovered he has a tenured position at a private prep school in upstate New York called Bridgewater Academy.”

  “Edgar and Jimmy told us this morning he was a teacher,” I confirmed.

  “Apparently, he’s well respected by students and faculty.”

  “Okay?” Daniel’s dubious tone made it clear he wasn’t seeing a problem.

  “There are some concerns. It appears he took a sudden leave of absence from his teaching job during the middle of summer term.”

  “Could be lots of reasons for that.”

  “True,” Brooks agreed without giving us any more information. He then turned to me and said, “Can you go see Johnny Hotchkiss?”

  “What about?” I asked.

  “Helene Kleister told us Nicholas had begged to go out on a big sailboat with Christopher, not the dayboat at Land’s End, so I’m guessing he rented it from Johnny. If I’m right, I’d like to know when this was, and did he go alone or with someone else? If so, who, and how long were they out? Once you get Johnny talking, he’ll be telling you the man’s life story.”

  “Why me?” I asked.

  “I don’t want Johnny to suspect anything and start blabbing around town about it. If you go, it’s just curiosity. If I go, it’s official.”

  “Got it. Sure, I’ll talk to Johnny.” Then I asked, “Are you here to question Christopher?”

  “I’m here to get his reaction to a few things.”

  “Well, here he comes.” Daniel nodded to where the man in question had just come into view, over the ridge, from the land trust where he took Gypsy for walks on the trails. The pit bull was leery of Whistler, so I grabbed the German shepherd’s collar and escorted him onto the porch and secured the gate.

  Brooks and Daniel had moved to the carriage house where I joined them, uninvited, just as Christopher arrived.

  “I have some bad news about your cottage,” Brooks told him. “It took quite a hit by the storm, and you can’t go back until the repairs are done.”

  “Hmph,” Christopher mumbled.

  “You’re welcome to stay in the carriage house for a couple more weeks,” Daniel told him.

  “No charge,” I added quickly, knowing it would be in the best interest of the investigation for him to stick around. “It was going to be empty anyhow.”

  “That’s very kind of you.” He then asked Brooks, “Can I go collect the rest of my belongings?”

  “Someone will need to escort you, for insurance purposes,” Brooks told him. I thought it more likely the police chief didn’t want Christopher Savage to have unchaperoned access to the cottage.

  “When can I go?”

  “Maybe tomorrow? We’ve got a lot on our plate right now.”

  “Okay,” he reluctantly agreed, not looking pleased.

  “Do you know where Sea Breeze cottage is?” Brooks posed a non sequitur.

  Christopher shook his head. “I’m not all that familiar with the names of the beach houses.”

  “It’s located at the opposite end of the beach from Land’s End, before the harbor area. A group of college kids have taken it over this summer. Skull and cross-bones flag on the pole?”

  “Now I know which one you mean.” He nodded. “The party house.”

  “Ever go to one of their parties?” Brooks asked.

  “No.” Christopher looked disgusted at the thought.

  “Ever heard of a man named Lee Chambers?”

  Christopher shook his head. “Should I have?”

  Brooks shrugged.

  “Who is he?”

  “A drug dealer mainly, though he’s had other offenses. Unfortunately, the party house has attracted some unsavory types.” Brooks pulled out his phone and showed Christopher a photo. “Recognize him?”

  “Never seen the man.” I tried to read Christopher’s expression, but there was nothing telling.

  Gypsy was whining, and he turned to leave.

  “One more thing,” Brooks said to him. “Helene Kleister told us that her oldest son spent some time with you.”

  Christopher nodded. “Nicholas wandered down to my cottage the first day I got here. He told me where he was staying, and I thought it pretty far for a kid his age, so I walked him back up the beach.”

  “Did you see him after that?”

  “Sure. We fished together a couple times. I took him out on the dayboat once—with his mother’s permission,” Christopher was quick to add, before asking, “How is Nicholas doing?”

  “Not well. He’s not talking. At all. It’s pretty traumatic to have your little brother disappear.”

  The man nodded thoughtfully. “Do you think I could see him? Maybe I could get him to talk.”

  “What makes you think that?” Daniel asked.

  “He was always pretty talkative with me. Sometimes it’s easier for kids when it’s not their parents.”

  “I’ll check with the Kleisters. But I wouldn’t count on it.” Brooks frowned. “They’re being exceptionally protective of their other three boys right now, as you can imagine.”

  “Of course.”

  “Did Nicholas ever bring Lucas with him to your cottage?”

  “Once. I called his mom right away to make sure she knew. I wheeled them back on the beach cart.” He hesitated a moment before saying, “Helene seemed a little out of it the times I spoke with her. Nicholas told me she was sick.”

  “Sick how?”

  “He didn’t seem to know.” He raised his hands in a slightly exasperated gesture. “He’s only six. But he worried about her.”

  Brooks started to walk toward his cruiser, stopped and turned around, and said, “Someone will be in touch when we’re freed up to take you back to your cottage.”

  Christopher’s shoulders dropped in a somewhat defeated gesture. As Brooks took off, I was reminded that Christopher didn’t have a car.

  “Let us know if you need a ride somewhere,” I offered.

  “I can take The Flex.” He evidently knew all about the Cape’s public bus routes.

  “I’m heading to town for an errand in a bit if you want a lift,” I told him.

  Daniel said, “Might as well go with me. I’m leaving now.”

  “Thanks, but I’ve got some calls to make first,” the man said, declining.

  Thirty minutes later, as I was getting into my old pickup truck Christopher called out, “Is your offer of a ride still good?”

  “Sure. Hop in.”

  On the short drive to town I tried to engage him, but he wasn’t the chatty sort. However, we did make a plan to rejoin the canvassers sea
rching for Lucas after we both finished our respective errands.

  “Where do you want to go?” I asked, making the turn onto High Street, nearly deserted save for work crews.

  “The post office.”

  I dropped him off and told him I’d meet him back there in an hour. But as I drove away, I saw in my rearview mirror that Christopher Savage did not enter the post office. Instead, he walked down Harbor Drive. Was he defying Brooks and going to his cottage? I considered following him, but I had two errands to accomplish.

  Unfortunately, the first proved fruitless. During my stop at the library, I learned that Bethany was dealing with storm damage at her own home, and the summer volunteer covering for the librarian wasn’t comfortable sharing the information I needed. The Mitchell Free Library was one of Granny Fi’s legacies, but this volunteer was pretty firm in his stance. I didn’t think it would help to tell him about my family’s connection. I’d come back later when Bethany was there.

  My second errand was more productive.

  “Hey, Cassie Lassie. You’ve been hanging around so much, maybe you want your old job back?” Johnny gave me a fond punch to the arm.

  “Which one? Tour guide or crew?” Though it pleased me to once again have a proper association with the family business, my memories of last year were not pleasant. I’d been flat broke and desperate to scrounge together every penny I could get my hands on when Johnny took me on, out of pity, to do scut work on the boats. “Never mind. The answer is N.O.!”

  He grinned. “Aw, come on. It wasn’t so bad, was it?”

  “Yeah, a real breeze.” I gave a sarcastic snort. The work had been brutally hard. “But I have to admit, it was a much-needed lifeline.”

  “If we could only get a lifeline to that lost little boy,” he said while setting out two ratty folding chairs. We watched for a moment as a handful of men worked to ready the fleet of touring boats to return to work after the storm. “I let most of the crew go help with the search.”

  “I’ll be joining them shortly. Along with Christopher Savage. Do you know him?” Johnny wasn’t great with names, so I elaborated. “He’s the one who lucked out and got Robyn Landers’s cottage this year.”

  “Yeah, yeah, right. Tall, blondish?”

  “That’s him.”

  “A good sailor, that one.” Johnny raked his hands through thick salt-and-pepper hair, then rubbed his chin. “He rented the Catalina a couple days ago, before the big storm hit. Brought it back in one piece, even after getting caught in a pop-up thunderstorm. He and a friend took it out.”

  “Who was that?” I asked.

  “Shoot. You know me and names.” Johnny had always been able to laugh at himself. “He came back on his own, though—said he’d dropped his friend in Orleans. Waited out the storm there and then sailed the Catalina back on his own.”

  “Not an easy boat to solo sail,” I marveled.

  “That’s what I was saying. A fair good sailor he is. I asked him if he often lost his friends at sea.”

  “I’ll bet he thought that was funny.” I didn’t, but I knew Johnny would take the bait.

  “Not a fan of man-overboard jokes, that one.” Johnny made a face. “Now you have me curious about the name of the friend.” His eyes brightened. “The waiver.”

  Anyone renting a boating craft was required to sign a liability release. A moment later Johnny came out of his office, brandishing the waiver like a flag. He handed it to me, and I glanced at it. Tyler Stendall. The name didn’t mean anything to me, but I committed it to memory before handing the paper back. I also caught Christopher’s DOB—only two years earlier than mine, which surprised me. I would have thought him older, but I guess the sun and surf had left their imprint. Most sailors considered it a fair tradeoff.

  As I walked back toward the pickup, Robyn Landers’s red Mercedes convertible sped by. I waved, but she didn’t see me. She was driving too fast for me to get a good look at who was in the passenger seat, though I was pretty sure it was a man. I was glad to think that she too had moved on after her divorce. Of course, the leggy, brunette, blue-eyed stunner wasn’t bound to stay single long.

  I arrived a bit early back at the post office, hoping to see which direction Christopher came from. Sure enough, he walked up from Harbor Drive. When he got into the truck, I noticed sand around his ankles. He’d definitely been to the beach, but had he gone to the cottage? And if so, what was his purpose?

  11

  Cassandra

  It was three days after the storm, and there was still no sign of what had happened to Lucas Kleister. Daniel was now splitting his time between the search and helping Brooks investigate Lee Chambers’s death, on top of his responsibilities at Mitchell Whale Watcher Boat Tours. Which was why I was surprised to see his mud-splattered Land Rover pull up to The Bluffs in the middle of the day.

  “What are you doing home?” I called out as Whistler rushed to offer a greeting with warm, wagging tail thumps. Laura and Jason were extending their stay in our guest room until repairs could be made to their rental, which had also suffered some damage. Both being busy—Jason with his deputy duties and Laura writing an article about the aftermath of the storm for the Cape Cod Times—the pleasure of tending to Whistler’s needs was left to me when I wasn’t out helping with the search.

  “Good to see you too.” He took me in his arms for a kiss. “Most women would love to be surprised by a midday visit from their husband.”

  “Not my husband yet,” I reminded him.

  “We will have to remedy that problem, now won’t we?” He walked with me into the house, his arm draped across my shoulder and Whistler close on our heels.

  “First, let’s find little Lucas.”

  Daniel’s handsome face darkened. “It’s so damn frustrating trying to look for clues of any kind with the mess the storm left behind.”

  “We ran into nothing but trouble this morning.” My team had been combing the land trust preserve that abutted our property, but there were so many precariously leaning trees and large hanging limbs that it had been called to a halt.

  He shook his head and walked toward the library. “I need Wes Creed’s employment file to verify some information he’s given us.”

  “You’ve spoken with him?” I asked when he returned to the kitchen, holding a manila folder.

  “He showed up for work this morning, and Brooks has him in custody now.”

  “Where?” There was no way the police station could have been repaired that quickly.

  “Damage was limited to the offices and interrogation rooms. The wing with the holding cells was spared. There’s a separate entrance, so Brooks set up a temporary work space in one of the cells.”

  Lu must be relieved to have her gallery back, I thought.

  “Johnny and I will be working extra hours until we can hire a replacement.” Doubtful this late in the season, which meant I would be seeing Daniel even less than practically never. “Or Wes is released.”

  “If he’s released,” I added.

  “We’ll see. So far? He’s cooperating and hasn’t asked for an attorney.” He held up the file he’d come to retrieve. “Brooks asked me to check out his alibi. Wes claims he was in Boston with some pals from a former job.”

  I was filing through my memories of his old Whale Rock jobs and thinking I might do my own digging, when Daniel interrupted my thoughts.

  “He denies knowing anything about Lucas Kleister’s disappearance or Lee Chambers’s death, though he didn’t seem alarmed to hear about either.”

  “Wes Creed has always been one cool cucumber.”

  “But not a good egg. He’s got some priors. Also, Jason learned from the party house crowd that Wes had shown up at a recent kegger. Guess who else was there that same night?”

  “Lee Chambers?”

  “Bingo.”

  “Wes didn’t deny knowing him?”

  “No, but he also didn’t admit to being chummy with him either. One of the frat boys claims to have ov
erheard Chambers and Creed talking when they went outside for a smoke; it was something to the effect that Chambers had a new client, and he’d pointed up to The Lookout.”

  “Helene Kleister?” Sea Breeze cottage was located near the bottom of the steps that led down to the beach from the Kleisters’s rental.

  “It certainly seems feasible. The woman’s been in a distracted haze every time I’ve seen her.” Daniel frowned and shook his head. “Wes made an offhand comment about the Kleisters that makes me suspect he knows them, or at least one of them, better than he’s admitting. That hunch was reinforced when I took some mug shots over to show the Kleisters. Chambers and Creed were the only two to inspire a reaction.”

  “By whom?” I asked.

  “Well”—he heaved a sigh—“Matthew answered for them all, stating that he recognized Wes from when the family went out on a whale watch tour. He also remembered seeing someone who looked like Lee Chambers hanging around Sea Breeze. But it wasn’t his reaction that interested me. It was Nicholas. He appeared startled by the mug shots, whipped around to look at his mom.”

  “What did Helene do?”

  “She just stared vacantly.”

  “There is definitely something off there,” I said, then glanced at the captain’s wheel clock. “Can I make you something to eat?”

  “Got something quick?”

  I grabbed a bag of whole grain bread and pulled from the cupboard some peanut butter and beach plum jam. “PBJ is as quick as it gets.”

  “What’s our tenant up to?” he asked as we took our plates out to the porch.

  After telling Daniel about my trip into town with Christopher, I said, “I saw him again a few minutes ago, leaving on a walk with Gypsy.”

  “Brooks is regretting not pushing more to let Savage talk with Nicholas.” He bit into the sandwich and mumbled through the stickiness. “Matthew Kleister refused, as predicted. He implied that Savage was a little too interested in their boys.”

  Just then Daniel’s phone buzzed with a text. He narrowed his eyes to read it.

  “Damn. The Kleisters have hired their own investigator,” he said with disgust. “That won’t be helpful.”