Chapter Fourteen

“You did it, didn’t you? You had Bertie Hanover killed!”

Ket Junior struggled to keep his voice steady. He was afraid, truly afraid, perhaps for the first time in his life. He knew better than to show his fear as he faced his father across the broad expanse of desk in the older man’s study.

Ketler Morgan, Senior puffed on the cigar he was holding, blowing out smoke in a leisurely fashion which served to heighten his son’s fear and loathing. With a maliciously reptilian smile, he swung his chair around to fully face his son.

“Whatever I do, I do for the good of this family. It’s a pity you couldn’t keep that objective in your own mind when you shipped in scum like Hanover.” His tone of voice was deceptively mild, but the words whipped across his son’s skin as effectively as the belt he’d once used to punish boyhood misdemeanors.

Ket’s jaw tightened. He was determined not to let his father see him wince as the harsh words landed on his injured pride like blows. “Hanover was one of my employees. He did a good job, and you had no right to interfere.”

Morgan Senior grimaced his distaste. “Well, boy, it’s good to see a spark of anger in you. Maybe you’re finally growing a backbone.”

“Hanover was a good employee and what you did was cold-blooded murder. And you made me look a fool.”

His father’s face darkened as he leaned forward across the desk. “You brought this on yourself. Consider it a lesson you need to learn. I won’t have you bringing in thugs who can’t be trusted and putting our business in jeopardy.”

“Tell the truth, you’re afraid your business associates are getting nervous.” Ket spat the words out.

Ket Senior brought his fist down on the desk, making the silver-framed family photographs jump and cigar ash sprinkle on the blotter. “You think Hanover was a tough guy, don’t you? Well, I tell you, our associates’ activities are tightly and lucratively tied in with ours, and they have colleagues who’d make Hanover look like a kindergartner. You don’t want to upset them.” The older man’s face clouded briefly with a brief wash of fear and he reached into his desk drawer for a small brown bottle, flipping off the top and extracting a blue pill. He sat silently for a few moments after swallowing the medication, taking deep, steady breaths, and Ket watched as the puce color in his father’s face and around his mouth slowly dissipated. A flash of sympathy touched him as he thought of his father, a strong man with a weak heart, a sympathy that faded as Morgan Senior spoke again.

“Ben Asher has been sniffing around, reading up on Hanover’s record and probably seeing him as a way into our little empire here. I couldn’t let that happen. Our friends in high places would not like us to let that happen. I simply asked for their help in eliminating the problem.”

His son drew in a sudden breath. Dammit, he’d thought his father had known nothing about Asher’s interest in Hanover—not even that the acting sheriff had known about the thug’s existence. He cursed inwardly, knowing his father had won yet another power play. How he hated him for it.

“Despite all the opportunities you’ve been given, son, you’ve managed to screw up royally. Is it that you like wallowing in the gutter with low lifes like Hanover?”

“I can’t see how you think you can take the high moral ground when the Morgan money was built on the backs of cheap labor turning cheap cattle hides into expensive leather goods. Now you’re playing with organized crime bosses who have their own hired thugs. You’re no better than they are.” Ket fought back, but his remarks didn’t leave so much as a dent in his father’s composure.

Sighing, Ket Senior righted the photographs on his desk. A tender look crossed his face as he held up the one of Alex. “The boy’s a looker, isn’t he? That dark hair and big brown eyes remind me of my own mother, your grandmother. Alex is smart—smarter than his father, a quick study. Maybe it’s time to start grooming this youngster to take over the business someday.”

The words hit Ket like a sucker punch. The old bastard would groom Alex for the power he should have? He wanted to grab the old man by his lapels and shriek into his smug face that Alex was none of his blood, but fear kept him silent.

Ket, Senior affected a congenial smile, puffing on his cigar. “It’s better this way, son. Hanover was a petty thug, a liability. You need to find yourself some classier playmates. And you need to stop meddling where you’re not ready to go. You talk about our associates…well, I can tell you they’ll not let a still wet-behind the ears young pup like you take over this business, no matter how smart you think you are.”

Beaten, Ket turned on his heel and stormed from the room, conceding his father had won this battle. He needed to seriously regroup and rethink his own strategy.

Sometimes he wished the old man would have the heart attack the doctors kept warning about. But then, he guessed he’d never get the approval he’d always wanted from his father.

****

The Morgan Mausoleum was empty and silent when Kathryn returned. Her father-in-law seemed to have turned in for the night, there was no sign of Ket or his secretary, and even Cynthia appeared to be out or tucked up in bed.

As she undressed, Kathryn was sure she wouldn’t get a wink of sleep. Her arms ached to hold Alex again, and her brain reeled with snapshots of Bertie Hanover’s body crumpling to the scarred boards of his front porch. The events of the day would surely haunt her.

Her exhausted mind and body had other ideas, however, and Kathryn fell into a deep, dreamless sleep almost the moment her head touched the pillow. She woke up refreshed after only a few hours, ready to get up and start again the search for her son.

She dressed in jeans, a T-shirt, and a thick sweater because the predawn hours were still cool. Armed with a notebook, toast, and a mug of coffee, she slipped silently out onto the stone patio behind the mansion and settled down on a padded metal chair to think. There had to be clues somewhere as to where her son had been taken and who had taken him.

The boy couldn’t have disappeared into thin air.

****

“Asher, what the hell are you doing to my town?” Maybe Amos Lawton had caught Ben’s thoughts. Maybe he was the retired sheriff, but the older man certainly didn’t sound very happy about the goings on in Lobster Cove.

“You mean the shooting out at Bertie Hanover’s house? My, word does get around fast.” Ben said, noting that on this visit the older man wasn’t inviting him out to the garden for a cold beer. Instead, they were nursing coffee cups in the privacy of the spacious living room. Mrs. Lawton had served them and, dropping a kiss on her husband’s balding scalp, announced she was going to bed with a book and leaving them to their machinations.

Lawton watched her go and it wasn’t until the door had closed behind her that he replied to Ben’s question. “I mean the whole damn shebang, boy. This place has the reputation of always being a quiet town—even on a Saturday night. Aside from the union trouble a few years ago, not much goes on.

“Then you come back to town, we have a kidnapping and a murder. Not to mention the FBI poking its pointy nose into the affairs of one of our most noble families.” His words were softened by sparkle in his eyes. “Is there anything else on the menu I should know about before I have a heart attack—or my daughter, the new sheriff, feels the need to postpone her honeymoon to come rushing back?”

“I most sincerely hope not, sir. But I have to warn you that it looks as if the organized crime connections are confirmed. Hanover’s killing looked like a contract hit to me. “

Lawton took a deep swallow of coffee. “Great! A crime wave is just what we needed. I think maybe I’ll take off down to our cottage in Florida. You know, really do the full retirement bit.”

Ben couldn’t resist prodding him. “You know darn well, sir, that you wouldn’t miss this for anything. But taking a few weeks down south, you and your wife, might really be a good idea. I have no idea what’s going to happen, but it looks as if it might be pretty messy. If I were you, I would go as far away as possible, so that none of the mess sticks to you.”

The older man’s face reddened. “That’s not what I had in mind, Asher. I wasn’t thinking of covering my behind. I just don’t like to see this place torn apart. Was sheriff for fifteen years; sort of grown fond of the place.”

Ben suppressed a smile. He’d known full well the old work horse wasn’t really planning on going anywhere. Which was just as well because he had a feeling in his gut that he’d need the support and inside information the experienced lawman could offer.

“I think you’re too good an officer to ignore what’s been festering underneath. In fact, judging by the way the files have been kept, I’d say you’ve been doing a little digging on your own from time to time.”

Lawton chewed on his inner cheek again. Then he grinned. “Yeah, well, like I said, I’ve had some questions about the way the Morgans have done business for years. Situation started long before my time here and old man Morgan is as crafty as a fox. They’ve buried the dirt as deep as they could. I always hoped the day would come when they’d get careless and I’d unearth some of the rot that lies beneath the fancy mansion of theirs.

“Sad to say, though, the sheriff in a small town doesn’t get too much free time, and I never did find anything to go to the prosecutors with before I retired. When I realized the charges against Hanover and his buddies were dropped because of ‘lost’ evidence, you can bet your life I got a whole lot more careful.”

Ben regarded the older man. He was well aware of the risks the sheriff would’ve been running going up alone against a powerful family like the Morgans, particularly when they had friends in high places.

“But you didn’t let them stop you, did you?”

Lawton chewed on his lip once more. “No, but I didn’t find anything, if that’s what you’re hoping. I know the Morgans received some pretty unsavory late night visitors. ‘Businessmen’ from New York, Chicago, Washington. They came in private limos registered to private companies, what seemed to me to be shell companies, but everything seemed legit. No names. No nothing.

“According to the Morgans, the men were friends or business associates, or whatever. But their visits always seemed mighty late for meetings, and they never stayed overnight, as you’d expect if they were friends. And there were no women with them, which made the family friends story even less plausible.”

Ben ran his hands through his hair. “You and Sheriff Lawton are not on your own with this now, sir. There are several other agents besides me out there, following paper trails and ready to dig deeper into whatever I can give them. I’m going to set a deputy on duty ready to take photographs of any suspicious visitors to the Morgan home.”

Lawton shrugged. “Have you seen the Morgan mausoleum? The only place you can take photographs is from the road, and you’d be seen quicker than you could click the shutter. Old man Morgan has some guys there, he calls them gardeners and handymen, but so far as I can see, they are actually hired guards.

“You know what burns me, though? I’m pretty sure old man Morgan had the idea I was suspicious and he was laughing at me.” The retired sheriff pursed his lips in disgust. Ben sympathized with him. Organized crime bosses often enjoyed playing with the authorities, acting like respectable citizens while sailing closer and closer to the wind.

Fortunately, for law enforcement officers, men like the Morgans often sailed too close and the steel trap of the law snapped shut on them.

He said as much to Lawton, who brightened considerably. “Boy, there’s nothing I’d like better than to see Ket Morgan, Senior and Junior, behind bars.”

“Oh, so you won’t be off to Florida, then?”

“What? And leave my town in the hands of the FBI? Be lucky if there was anything left standing when you trigger-happy boys were through. Oh, no, Asher, I’ll be here to watch you, as well as the Morgans.”

“I, for one, am pleased to hear that.” Ben said, and he meant it. Lawton would be an invaluable source of information and contacts, and it will be good to have him on his side. Too often local law enforcement got sidelined by state or federal authorities, and Ben considered this was a mistake.

“So, did you manage to come up with anything on the Morgans’ bookkeeper? What was his name…Alfred Morris?”

Lawton drank the last of his coffee, placed the mug on the small wooden table before him, and picked up a notebook. “Seems I was right. The man would certainly benefit from some close scrutiny. Remember I told you his mother had been ill for years and he was buried in medical bills and funeral expenses? Bill Adler, the manager over at the bank, told me—in confidence, of course—Morris had been in to see him just a few weeks ago, looking for a consolidation loan to pay off the bills. Unfortunately, his house was already mortgaged, and he had little else by way of collateral. Adler’s a local man running a local bank, and he could bend the rules a little. Think he felt sorry for the old guy.”

“A banker with a heart?” Ben raised his eyebrows in mock amazement.

Lawton grinned back. “Seems he agreed to let Morris use what little collateral he had left in the house. The man also offered to put up his company pension plan.”

“So, he got the loan?”

Lawton leaned forward in his seat, looking serious. “He did, but nowhere near what he was asking for. Adler said it was the best he could do—some of those big banks wouldn’t have touched Morris, given his income to debt ratio.”

“So he got the money on the strength of the equity in the house alone?”

The other man grinned. “Oh, aren’t you just a quick one? Seems Adler had to break the news to him that the company pension plan isn’t really in good shape. Bill told me it’s supposed to be confidential, but he thought a word to the wise wouldn’t do any harm.”

Ben whistled out a breath, his face serious. “If word has gotten around that the Morgans have ransacked the pension plan, which a lot of guys will be depending on for their future, which means there are plenty of people out there with reason to try and grab a bit of the money back from the family. Maybe by indulging in a little bit of kidnapping.”

“Got that right. Mind you,” Lawton said, tossing his notebook onto the table and leaning back in his seat. “I’d say that, for the most part, they’re a good bunch of guys who work there. If one—or more—of them have been desperate enough to take the kid, then at least he’ll be well treated.”

Ben wasn’t sure that was the case. Desperate people often acted out of character and did things they’d never normally consider. But he admitted to a glimmer of excitement. If he could get to the truth about the pension plan, and if it showed the Morgans had mishandled—or were criminally responsible for—the pension plan coffers being empty, then that could be the key he needed to investigate more deeply into their activities. The key to blow the whole Morgan empire wide open which is what he’d been sent here to do, before he became embroiled in a murder and kidnapping.

And before he’d learned the woman he loved wasn’t quite who he thought she was, and he was the father of her child.

****

In the dark, dank room, Alex trembled with cold and fear. On the other side of the locked door, he could hear the man muttering angrily, his pacing footsteps sounding hollow in the cavernous room beyond.

The man had been pacing and muttering for a long time now, his anger spilling over to sudden fury when Alex had refused to eat the meagre platter of dry white bread and milk he’d brought the boy. The man, with the black-knit mask pulled over his face, had used angry, bad words and flung the glass at the wall above the boy’s head. It had shattered, spraying the Alex with drops of milk and sharp splinters.

The man had been so absorbed in his own fury, ranting about the ungrateful, the spoiled rich who cared nothing for the people who’d faithfully served them that he had left without cleaning up the broken glass. Staring at the mess, Alex remembered a film he had seen once on television at a friend’s house. It wasn’t the sort of film his momma would let him watch, but Jack’s parents said it was okay. In the film, a man had his wrists tied together by bad men, and he had found a piece of sharp glass and cut through the ropes.

Will it work in real life? Gingerly, Alex picked up one of the bigger shards and hid it beneath him on the bed.

Meanwhile, outside his door, the man went on muttering angrily, although Alex couldn’t hear anyone answering him. The man must be talking to himself.

“Does he think I’m a fool? Does he think I’m so afraid of him that he can screw me around and I won’t react?”

Alex couldn’t understand the words that spewed from the man on the other side of the steel door, but he knew enough to be deathly afraid.

He was too scared of the man to think him a fool and certainly he knew his captor wasn’t afraid of him. If the man was talking about someone else, who could he mean?

Did he mean Alex’s father? The boy shivered. He, too, was afraid of that cold, distant, angry man.

Thinking of his father brought thoughts of his mother, too, and he had to knuckle away tears that welled in his eyes and spilled over down his cheeks. He sniffed hard to hold them back, wiping his nose on the dirty sleeve of his shirt.

Thinking of his mother, of her soft voice and the sweet perfume she wore, he began determinedly sawing with the piece of glass at the nylon rope that bound him to the filthy bed. The glass was more effective than the plastic knife he’d taken from the fast food the man had brought him.

He didn’t care that the glass cut painfully into his fingers, making them slick with his own blood. If he could free himself, then he would find a way home to his mother. He knew she must be worried about him by now. And he was sure his father would turn his anger against the man. Alex hoped he’d be there to see that.