When I got home that evening, I found Charles waiting for me at the door to the Lighthouse Aerie rather than meeting me downstairs, and I took that for a bad sign. He did not look happy. “The dog won’t be here for long,” I said. “Try to play nicely.”
Charles hissed.
I slowly opened the door. Charles shot in and headed straight for the kitchen, where he sniffed disapprovingly at the bowl of water I’d put down for Fluffy. Fluffy herself was nowhere to be seen. I decided to feed Charles before looking for the dog and did so.
While Charles dined, I searched. It didn’t take long, and it wasn’t hard to find her. I simply followed the sound of whining and peeked under the bed. “You can come out,” I said. “It’s safe. I hope.”
Fluffy’s little black nose appeared, followed by the rest of her. She kept her eyes fixed firmly on Charles. Charles appeared content to eat and pointedly ignored the dog. Hoping for the best, I opened a can of dog food, dropped a couple of spoonfuls into a bowl, added some dry food, and stirred it all together. I hadn’t read Evangeline’s feeding instructions, and I hoped the little creature wouldn’t die before I got around to doing that. I put the bowl on the floor.
Fluffy edged closer, keeping one eye on Charles. Then, not sensing an imminent attack, she rushed for the bowl and dove in. Charles finished his own meal and, completely ignoring the newcomer, strolled across the apartment, leapt onto the window seat, settled himself comfortably, and began washing his whiskers.
I let out a sigh of relief. Peace in the home.
I woke with Charles curled against my back, snoring lightly. A snuffling sound came from the floor, and I leaned over to see Fluffy’s intense black eyes staring up at me. The peace had continued, and as far as I was aware, no raging battles had broken out overnight.
Wednesday was my day off. I would like to have viewed houses, but Connor was in meetings all day. I lay in bed, contemplating what to do with my day. Maybe I’d call Mom and suggest lunch and shopping. For me, shopping isn’t a recreational activity, but it is for my mom. Perhaps Aunt Ellen and Josie could join us and we’d have a true mother-daughter outing. That would be fun.
First things first. I got out of bed and threw on a pair of yoga pants, a T-shirt, and a light sweater. Dog duties needed to be done. I found Fluffy’s leash and clipped it onto her collar, and we headed out. Charles, who usually ran ahead of me, eager to get to work, stayed where he was.
We were up early, and when I’d peered out the window to check the weather, the giant orange ball of the sun had been making its first appearance above the watery horizon.
The library was quiet, but I didn’t have time to admire it, as Fluffy was in a rush to get outside. Who knew a creature so small could exert such a powerful pull? She galloped down the stairs in a flurry of white fur, and I scrambled to keep up, trying to keep from being yanked off my feet as we hurtled across the floor of the main room, out the door, and down the steps.
With an almost human sigh of relief, Fluffy settled herself on the grass.
The area surrounding the lighthouse was so beautiful in the soft orange light of the rising sun, and so quiet. I’d miss living here. I’d miss mornings like this one. I pushed aside a brief pang of regret. Yes, I’d miss my Lighthouse Aerie, but it was time to move on. I had no regrets or doubts about choosing to have a life with Connor.
“Come on, Fluffy,” I called. “I need coffee, and when I’ve had breakfast and am suitably dressed, we’ll come back for a nice long walk. You’ll like it out here in the wild spaces.” I wasn’t so sure about that last comment; Fluffy looked like a city dog to me, more comfortable with her little feet on asphalt than on the spongy grass, used to running away from bigger dogs, not Canada geese.
I’d stuffed my phone into my sweater pocket, and it rang. I pulled it out and felt a jolt of panic when I recognized my mother’s number. It was way too early for her to be calling to make plans for the day. “ ’Morning, Mom. Is everything okay?”
“No, it is not. Evangeline called and asked me to come to the hotel. The police informed her they will be paying her a visit at eight o’clock this morning. They have further questions for her. She wants my support, and I want yours.”
“Can’t you ask Uncle Amos?”
“I did, but he’s due in court first thing this morning. Most inconvenient. I’ll meet you at the Ocean Side. I’ve borrowed Ellen’s car, and I’m leaving now.” She hung up, giving me no opportunity to protest.
What was it Sherlock Holmes said to Doctor Watson? “Come at once if convenient. Come at once if not convenient.”
It was not convenient for me. Oh well, I had been thinking it would be nice to have a mother-daughter bonding day.
Some mothers and daughters do bonding differently than others.
I took Fluffy upstairs, fed her and Charles, and jumped into the shower. When I came out, I was surprised to see the cat and the dog both sitting on the window seat. They weren’t exactly curled up together, but neither were they engaged in a fight to the death for possession of prime napping space.
I dressed quickly in capri-length jeans and a T-shirt, not much bothering about what I wore. This wasn’t a social occasion. I told Fluffy I’d be home soon, I hoped, and we’d go for that walk. “Let’s go, Charles,” I said.
Charles eyed me from the comfort of the window seat.
I opened the door. “Time to go to work.”
Charles stretched mightily and yawned.
“Charles, you’re the library cat. Your contract allowing you to live in the Lighthouse Aerie and consume all the food you can eat says you have to put in six days a week in the library. You get no vacation time. Let’s go. Oh, for heaven’s sake. The dog’s only visiting. She isn’t usurping your position.” I marched across the room, picked the big cat up, and put him on the floor outside. He sauntered toward the stairs without a backward glance, head high, hips swinging, tail erect. When I glanced behind me into the apartment, Fluffy was stretching luxuriously across the full length of the window seat.
I arrived at the Ocean Side Hotel at two minutes to eight. I was running up the steps when the cruiser with Watson and Holly Rankin pulled up. I waited in the lobby for them.
“I shouldn’t be surprised to see you, Lucy,” Watson said. “But I am.”
“Evangeline called Mom, and Mom called me.”
“This isn’t a public event, Lucy. I could have had Officer Rankin escort Mrs. Lewiston to the police station, but I decided, in light of the early hour, I’d come here instead. Was that a mistake?”
“No. I’ll tell Mom we can’t stay.”
He nodded and headed to the elevators. Holly and I scurried after him. It was early, but guests were stirring, ready for breakfast in the restaurant or going out for a day on the water or at the beach.
Quite a crowd had gathered in Evangeline’s suite. Mom was there, once again fresh and dewy and perfectly turned out. Ricky looked rumpled, badly shaven, and not happy. A man I didn’t know stood next to Evangeline. He was about my age, short and slight, with Coke-bottle-bottom glasses and brown hair artfully arranged to stand up above his forehead. He wore a dark suit with a perfectly knotted blue tie and a spotless starched white collar and cuffs.
Watson focused on him. “I’m Detective Sam Watson, NHPD. Who are you?”
“Stephen Livingstone. Attorney with Richardson Lewiston.”
“You called a lawyer, Mrs. Lewiston? That is, of course, your prerogative, but you are not under arrest. I simply have some further questions about the death of your husband.”
“I didn’t call Stephen,” Evangeline said, “but I’m glad he’s here. We can’t have you continuing to browbeat my son and I.”
I decided this wasn’t the time to correct Evangeline’s grammar. The proper phrase would have been my son and me.
“Hardly browbeating,” Watson said. “If the rest of you will excuse us …”
My mom stood up. Ricky crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair.
“All of you,” Watson said. “Please leave. Except Mrs. Lewiston and her attorney.”
Ricky huffed and slowly got to his feet.
“Hi.” Stephen grabbed my hand and pumped it enthusiastically. “So pleased to meet you. You must be Lucy, Mr. Richardson’s daughter. I’ve heard so much about you.”
“You have?”
“Come along, Lucy,” Mom said. “Don’t dawdle.”
Mom walked out of the room. I followed, and Ricky brought up the rear.
“Where’d he come from?” I asked when the door had closed behind us. “Did you ask the firm to send a lawyer, Ricky?”
“I didn’t. If I need representation, I’m good with your uncle and his partner. I looked them up last night, and she’s got a mighty powerful track record.”
“Your father called me last night after you left,” Mom said, “to say he was sending someone down. If the reputation of the firm is in anyway threatened by these events, he wants someone here, on the ground.”
“Fair enough,” I said.
“Have you had breakfast yet?” Ricky asked.
“I haven’t had time for so much as a cup of coffee,” I said. “It’s supposed to be my day off.”
“Good. I’m starving.”
“Might as well,” Mom said. “Evangeline will call when they’re finished.”
“Let’s get a seat by the door,” Ricky said. “So we can see the cops leave.”
“Did Evangeline say why Watson wanted to talk to her again?” I asked Mom when we were seated at a spacious table for six in the hotel’s bright, cheerful restaurant, with full coffee mugs and open menus.
The restaurant was less than half-full, and the low buzz of conversation swirled around us. The morning sun streamed through the east-facing windows, and the air was fragrant with the delicious scents of morning: coffee, toast, bacon.
“She doesn’t know,” Ricky answered. “At least they didn’t haul her down to the police station as though she were a common criminal. Like they did to other people I could mention.”
I added a healthy slug of cream to my coffee and stirred. “Mom?”
“She didn’t say. Unlikely Watson told her.”
“It might not be about anything new. They have people go over their statements more than once, looking for inconsistencies or forgotten details.”
“Ready to order?” the waitress asked.
Mom chose the yogurt parfait, Ricky asked for a double stack of pancakes with sausages, and I threw caution to the wind and ordered the smoked-salmon eggs Benedict. My relaxing morning and my day off had been ruined, so I might as well get something out of it.
“I don’t suppose,” I said, once the waitress had left, “you thought of anything new last night.”
“Nope,” Ricky said.
“What did you do after leaving the police station?”
He avoided my eyes. “Nothing much.”
“If you’ve stayed on to be a support to your mother,” Mom said, “going out and leaving her alone isn’t the best way to go about it.”
He lifted his head and stared at her. “I don’t believe that’s any of your business, Suzanne.”
She sipped at her coffee. Somehow, in all the turmoil of yesterday, she’d managed to find the time to get a fresh manicure. She put the cup carefully down in front of her. “It would appear, Richard, that you and your family have made it our business. Believe me, I’d rather be at home, and Lucy has better things to be doing. Instead we’re here, because your mother has asked for my support. I’m happy to provide it out of respect for her loss and for the years we’ve known each other, although at times we could scarcely have been considered friends. If you believe I’m wasting my time, please tell me, and my daughter and I will be on our way.” She plucked her napkin off her lap, folded it, and laid it neatly on the table beside her plate.
Ricky had the grace to flush. He fussed with his cutlery and napkin. He glanced at me, and then he looked directly at Mom. “That’s not what I meant, Mrs. Richardson. I apologize.”
“Thank you.” Mom fluffed her napkin and returned it to her lap.
“In my defense,” he said, “I suggested Mom and I go out for dinner, and she said she wanted to be alone and would order room service, watch TV, and go to bed early. I told her to call me if she changed her mind, and yes, I went into town and found a low-life bar. It was not only low-life but low action, and I was back at the hotel by ten.” He glanced at me. “Alone.”
“Have you given any more thought as to why your dad would have been in Nags Head?” I asked.
“I’ve thought of little else, Lucy. I’ve been talking to people at the office—those who will take my calls, at any rate. Everyone says Dad seemed perfectly normal on Friday when he left at his regular time. A couple of people were in over the weekend, and they didn’t see him. Dad was still in bed when Mom left for the airport early on Sunday morning and she didn’t wake him. He simply didn’t show up at the office on Monday morning at his usual time. As for me, I haven’t seen or spoken to Dad for days.”
“What does your housekeeper say?” Mom asked.
“Mrs. Lopez? Mom and I both spoke to her. She wasn’t at the house on Sunday, she doesn’t work weekends, and she didn’t see Dad on Monday, which is normal, as he goes into the office before she arrives for work. She didn’t know anything was wrong until she got Mom’s call on Tuesday morning to say we’d be home later than planned and why.”
“Has she been with your parents for long?” I asked. “Meaning, is she likely to know their secrets?”
“Less than a year,” Ricky said. “Mom has … uh … trouble keeping staff. When I spoke to Mrs. Lopez, she told me a suitcase seems to be missing from Dad’s closet, as are some of his clothes and shoes and his traveling toiletry bag.”
“How many clothes?”
“Does that matter?”
“It matters very much. Two days’ worth? A week? What you’d take if you were skipping the country forever? What about his passport?”
“I didn’t ask her.”
“Ask,” I said.
Ricky made the call and asked the housekeeper to check his dad’s closets again. While he was waiting, our meals arrived, and we picked up knives and forks. Ricky tucked the phone between his chin and shoulder and sliced his sausage, and I applied a liberal helping of ketchup to my home fries and sprinkled hot sauce on top.
I saw my mom, who was picking at the blueberries on her parfait, eye the mountain of food in front of me. Once upon a time, she would have made a comment about keeping oneself slim or the perils of overeating.
Demonstrating how things had changed between us, she said nothing.
“We haven’t decided when we’ll be home yet, but I’ll keep you posted. Thanks.” Ricky put his phone away. “She can’t tell for sure, but not much seems to be gone, and he took a carry-on suitcase, not one of the bigger ones. She’s never seen his passport and doesn’t know where he keeps it. It’s probably in the safe—always was when I lived at home. The police, by the way, have been to the house asking the same sort of questions.” Ricky speared a slice of sausage and put it in his mouth. “You think Dad might have been planning to leave?”
“The thought crossed my mind. If he had more debts to unsavory elements than he could possibly hope to repay, he might have thought fleeing was the best option. That would explain why he came to Nags Head. To either get your mother or to say good-bye to you both.”
“I can’t see it,” Mom said. “Rich simply didn’t have the imagination.”
I wasn’t so sure, but I said nothing. Who knows what lengths people will go to if they believe they’re in danger.
If Rich had been fleeing organized crime, and if, realizing his intent, they’d killed him, then it really would be none of my business.
I could only hope. But, until we knew that for sure, I intended to keep asking questions. “This is going to be difficult for you to answer, Ricky,” I said, “but the question has to be asked. Was your dad perhaps involved with another woman?”
Ricky’s head jerked up. “What kind of a question is that?”
“I’m just thinking out loud. Maybe he was planning to run away with his secretary or someone and came to tell your mom so.”
“He wasn’t involved with Jackie McKenzie, who’s happily married.”
“That doesn’t always—” Mom began.
“In this case it does. Jackie’s married to a woman.”
“Oh,” I said.
“She was in the office all day Monday, remember, scrambling to rebook Dad’s appointments. As for anyone else—honestly, Lucy, I’ve never heard so much as a whiff of any rumors like that, and I would have if they’d been going around the firm. I hadn’t recently noticed any change in his behavior either.”
That, I thought, meant nothing. It was unlikely Ricky had ever paid much attention to his dad at all.
I was scraping my plate clean when Mom said, “There they go.”
I threw down my fork, grabbed my bag, leapt to my feet, said, “Catch you later, Mom,” and ran out of the restaurant.
“Detective,” I called. “A moment, please.”
Watson stopped. He sighed and slowly turned around. “How can I help you, Lucy?”
“A quick question, if you don’t mind.”
“Only one?”
“One to start with. Did Rich Lewiston have his passport on him?”
“He did not.”
“Oh.”
“You sound disappointed.”
“No one knows what he was doing in Nags Head. I thought maybe, if things were getting bad enough financially for him, he might have been thinking about leaving the country and came to get his wife.”
“That doesn’t appear to be the case,” Watson said. “Let me ask you a question. Why do you think Rich Lewiston was in financial difficulties?”
“Because everyone from his son to my father to the junior partners in the law firm say so. He was about to be asked to take retirement. More like told to take retirement, whether he wanted to or not. And he did not. Did you know that?”
“I know how to run an investigation, Lucy.”
“Without your interference,” Officer Rankin added.
“Only trying to be of help,” I said.
“Because you have been of help in the past,” Watson said, “I answered your question.”
I dared to ask one more. “Have you spoken to Gordon Frankland about Monday night? He was at the restaurant when we were—you know that, right? He had words with Ricky about his dad. He was suing Richardson Lewiston for—”
Watson raised his hand. “I’ve spoken to Mr. Frankland, and what we discussed is confidential.”
“If you’re afraid he’s going to sue you, I won’t tell.” I smiled.
Watson might have been about to crack a smile in return. Or he might not. It’s hard to tell sometimes.
“Have a nice day, Lucy.” Watson turned and walked away. Rankin wiggled her eyebrows at me in a gesture I couldn’t interpret, then followed him. I watched them leave.
Watson held the door for a man hurrying into the hotel. The man caught sight of me and headed my way. “Lucy, good morning. How nice to see you.”
I struggled for his name. This was Evangeline’s friend, the one she’d been having lunch with yesterday.
“Leon Lions,” he said.
“Sorry. Yes. Good morning.”
“I’m looking for Evangeline. She called and suggested we have breakfast this morning.”
“She called you? She’s been rather busy, I would have thought. When was that?”
“Oh, a few minutes ago.” He glanced around the room. “Fortunately, I happened to be passing, so I could come right away. There she is now!”
He abandoned me and just about sprinted across the lobby, barely avoiding colliding with an elderly lady tapping her way carefully across the room, trailed by a cohort of family laden with beach bags, colorful balls, flotation devices, spades and shovels, and a bag clanging with cans of soft drinks.
Evangeline stepped out of the elevator with Stephen Livingstone. She broke into a smile—a real smile—when she saw Leon and hurried toward him. He wrapped her in an enthusiastic hug and kissed her on both cheeks. She pulled away eventually, laughing and blushing.
Interesting.
I joined them and asked, “Everything okay? Did the police have any updates for you?”
She sighed. “Nothing new. The same tedious questions. Why was Rich in Nags Head? Who might have wanted to kill him? What was the state of our marriage?” She turned to Stephen. “You should have stopped them asking that question. The state of our marriage has nothing to do with anything.”
“I thought it was a fair question, Mrs. Lewiston.”
“I didn’t. Never mind badgering me about where I was at the time Rich died.”
“They weren’t badgering, Mrs. Lewiston. Just asking. I thought—”
“I don’t know that I care what you thought. My husband was a senior partner in one of Boston’s most respectable law firms, not to mention scion of one of Boston’s oldest families. Why Millar sent me a wet-behind-the-ears, scarcely-out-of-law-school apprentice, I—” She walked away, heels tapping, still talking. Leon caught up to her, and they went into the restaurant together.
Stephen stared after her, his mouth flapping.
“Don’t take it personally,” I said. “She talks to everyone that way. My dad would have chosen you to come because he knows you can do the job. And that you can keep her out of trouble. That’s not always easy.”
“Thanks,” he said. “I can handle her. I’ve had … encounters with Mrs. Lewiston before.”
We walked into the restaurant together. Ricky was on his feet, shaking hands with Leon Lions, who was grinning from ear to ear. If he were a woman, I would have said he glowed with pleasure. He finally dropped Ricky’s hand and allowed Evangeline to introduce him to my mom. He barely glanced at her, and that was unusual. Men in that age group usually fuss over Mom. She’s slim and beautiful, she’s obviously rich, she’s gracious, and she has that soooo delighted to meet you air about her that men like. Come to think of it, men a lot younger than Leon Lions fuss over Mom.
He turned back to Evangeline. “Shall I find us a table?”
“First, I need to talk to my so-called lawyer,” Evangeline replied.
Stephen’s mouth tightened.
Mom stood up. “In that case, Lucy and I will be on our way.”
Evangeline took my vacated chair and shoved the dirty plate to one side. “I can’t spend any more time in this hotel. Suzanne, let’s have lunch in town and do some shopping. I saw an outlet mall the other day. That’ll be fun. Lucy and Ricky can join us for lunch. Shopping isn’t exactly Ricky’s thing, now, is it, dear?” She reached behind her and patted her son’s hand. “You and Lucy can find something fun to do. I’ve heard the Wright Brothers Memorial is very interesting.”
“You truly are persistent, I’ll give you that,” Mom said. “Lucy won’t have time. She’s …” Mom foundered to think of something for me to do. “She has people to interview about what happened to Rich.”
“I do?” I said. “Oh, right. Yes, I do. People to interview. Not interview as in formally take statements, just ask questions. Sorta.” I stopped talking. No one was paying any attention to me.
“You do remember what happened to Rich, don’t you, Evangeline?” Mom said. “The reason we’re all still here?”
“Of course I remember,” Evangeline said. “Don’t be ridiculous, Suzanne. If I was inclined to forget, the police are popping up constantly to remind me.”
“I’d like to see the Wright Brothers,” Ricky said. “If you’re busy, Lucy, I can go by myself.”
“I’ve had a great idea,” Leon said. “Ricky and I can have lunch with the ladies and then go to the memorial while they do their shopping. I haven’t been in years.”
“Why would Lucy have people to interview?” Stephen asked.
“My daughter,” Mom said, with what to my considerable surprise sounded like a note of pride, “has helped the police solve cases before. She’s full of interesting talents, as I’m finding out on this visit.”
“Excellent.” Evangeline clapped her hands together. “We’re all set. Leon, you can recommend a nice place where we can meet for lunch. Oh, Lucy darling, is Fluffy managing all right? She has such a delicate stomach, you know, and I’m worried it will get worse with all this stress. She must be missing me so very dreadfully.”
“She’s okay,” I said. “She and my cat are making friends.”
“Your cat? Do you mean that horrid library creature? Most unfortunate. Fluffy doesn’t care for cats. Neither do I. Nasty animals. Try and keep them apart, will you. Oh, one other thing before you go. She has an exceptionally weak bladder.”
“She has what?”
“She needs to be taken out regularly.” Evangeline smiled at me. “I hope that’s not too much of a problem, Lucy dear.”
“Not at all.” I gritted my teeth.
Ricky disguised his laugh by stuffing an abandoned slice of toast into his mouth.