Stranger on the Shore Page 15

  The broad-spectrum police investigation had basically come to a halt once suspicion had zeroed in on Johnson. Individual threads of inquiry—Mr. Tuppalo’s credit problems, for example—had been dropped while law enforcement worked to make the case against Johnson watertight.

  In a way it was understandable. Most of the household staff were trusted long-time employees. And as far as a member of the family being implicated, Griff knew the Arlingtons well enough by now to know how that idea would have gone over. Michaela would have to have been caught with her arms wrapped around the bag of ransom money for her family to even permit the discussion.

  Maybe it was the sabotaging of the bridge or maybe it was simply having had time to process his interview with Johnson, but the more Griff considered everything he had learned so far, the more he was inclined to believe Johnson. If Johnson couldn’t adequately hide the ransom money, how the hell would he so successfully hide a child—or even a child’s body? That was one of the things he kept coming back to. Another was Johnson’s inability to move through the house that evening undetected. People—guests and staff—had been coming and going all night. Whoever had taken Brian had been able to move through the house unseen. Either because he or she was familiar with the interior passageways or because he or she was able to blend in. Or both. Johnson might know there were secret passages in the house, but it was unlikely he’d know where or how to gain access to them. And as far as blending in? No way in hell.

  But the main problem, the clincher for Griff, was that freaky phone call and the sabotaged bridge. Granted, the bridge might not have been sabotaged—it looked that way to him, but he was no expert—however, there could be no mistake about that warning phone call. Someone was making it as plain as possible they didn’t want him to investigate any further.

  And since that person could not be Odell Johnson, it had to be someone with a vested interest in keeping the case closed. Griff couldn’t think of anyone with an interest other than Johnson’s accomplice—or the real kidnapper.

  He stopped walking, leaning against one of the low stone walls and pulling his phone out. He tried calling May Chung again.

  The phone rang a couple of times.

  Somewhere on the other side of the morning mist he could hear the gloomy groaning of a distant foghorn.

  “Hello?” The voice was deep but definitely female.

  “May? Is this May Chung?”

  The voice sharpened with distrust. “Who’s calling please?”

  “This is Griff Hadley. I’m a journalist. Jarrett Arlington has authorized me to write a book about his grandson’s kidnapping. I was hoping I could have a few minutes. Is this a good time to talk?”

  If anything, she sounded more suspicious. “Jarrett Arlington hired you?”

  “Mr. Arlington is hoping that reopening the conversation about Brian’s kidnapping might lead to new information. Do you think you could spare me a few minutes? It won’t take long.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Just a quick couple of questions. Or if this isn’t convenient—”

  “I’ll have to think about this,” May said.

  “Let me give you my cell number. Just tell me when and where. I’ll be hap—”

  She overrode him. “I’m not sure about this at all. I’m going to have to think. The person you should be talking to is Nels Newland.”

  With that, May hung up.

  Chapter Fifteen

  He was still trying to make sense of May Chung’s reaction when his cell phone rang. The number was not one Griff recognized. He was aggravated at the hope that flared inside his heart, and he answered briskly.

  “Griff? This is Diana Mather.”

  “Hi,” he said, surprised.

  “I just had a client cancel on me and I’m free for lunch today. Would you like to get together?”

  Did he have time for this? She was Pierce’s sister, so he was sort of inclined to make time, but he only had a couple of days left on the estate and he still had a lot of work to do.

  “Well...”

  Diana said, “It’s not going to change the course of history, but there’s something I’ve been wanting to get off my chest for twenty years.”

  “All right,” Griff said. “Where did you want to meet?”

  “Do you like sushi?”

  “Er, no.”

  She laughed. “Okay. How about Italian?”

  “Sure.”

  “Okay. I’ll meet you at Angelina’s on Berry Hill Road at twelve-thirty. Will that work?”

  “I’ll see you there.”

  He stopped himself disconnecting in time at her urgent, “Griff?”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t tell Pierce we’re meeting.”

  Diana disconnected, leaving Griff to stare in astonishment at his phone. After a moment, he added her into his contacts, which seemed a bit of bravado, but after all, he might get lost or get delayed.

  He walked on to the cottage and found that the bridge had already been repaired and repainted. The rich really were different if they could get a response from a contractor within twenty-four hours.

  He went inside, showered, dressed in his last clean pair of jeans and sat down to read Gemma’s journal until it was time to leave to go meet Diana.

  Unsurprisingly, after Brian’s kidnapping the tone of Gemma’s journal had changed. One of the most surprising things to Griff, surprising because the earlier Gemma seemed such a positive, upbeat person, was that Gemma seemed to have believed from the first that she would never see her son again. That terrible certainty and sorrow made the latter part of the journal difficult to read.

  Today would have been Brian’s fifth birthday. I found myself hoping no one would remember. No, that’s not true. I want them to remember, but I don’t want them to tell me all those well-meaning, inspirational, encouraging things. I can’t bear another kind word. Even Matthew doesn’t understand that hope only makes it harder in the end.

  It was almost a relief to put the journal down and leave for his lunch date.

  Angelina’s turned out to be a family-owned restaurant in a mostly residential area. On the exterior it looked like any cozy brick and white clapboard house. The interior consisted of three dining rooms, a fireplace and a very nice bar, all warm and pleasantly furnished in cherry wood and old-fashioned wallpaper. But the real attraction was the fantastic fragrance of basil, oregano, garlic, onion and meats braised in wine wafting through the building.

  Diana was waiting for him in the bar, sipping a glass of red wine. Her hair was pulled into a casual updo that looked stylish on her. She wore a short shift with an ugly purple-and-yellow print, and somehow that looked great too.

  “Hey there! You found it.” Her smile was a less guarded version of Pierce’s white blaze. “Did you want a drink?”

  Griff ordered a Peroni from the bartender. The beer arrived in a pilsner glass. Diana touched her glass to his. “Cheers. I’m glad you came.”

  “Well, it would be hard to resist a hook like that,” Griff told her.

  Diana laughed, sounding nervous, but the waitress arrived at that moment and they were led to their table.

  There followed the rituals of napkins and menus. The waitress reappeared and Diana ordered the field green salad with Portobello mushrooms and parmesan. Griff ordered the chicken Caesar.

  The waitress thanked them, took their menus, and departed. By then Griff was wondering if he’d made a mistake in coming out to lunch.

  “How was last night?” Diana inquired brightly. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

  “Yeah, sure,” Griff said cautiously, hoping this wasn’t about to get very weird.

  “I’m glad. Pierce is...difficult.” She smiled ruefully. “He doesn’t trust very easily.”

  “He’
s not in a trusting line of work.”

  “No. True.” She chuckled. “And neither are you.”

  “True.” He’d never really thought about it that way before.

  Her lip curled. “You’ve probably heard the whole story right? I’m sure Muriel was only too happy to fill you in.”

  Griff said cautiously, “The whole story?”

  Diana stared at him and then her cheeks turned pink. Even in the soft lighting he could see she was blushing. “Me and my big mouth. Just forget I said anything.”

  “Okay,” Griff was now totally confused. And embarrassed, although he wasn’t completely sure why.

  Diana took a sip of her wine. She set the glass down with a decisive click. “Forget I said anything but if you want to see Pierce again, you’ll have to initiate it. Take my word for it. He doesn’t.”

  “He doesn’t what?” Griff asked, wondering if he had fallen asleep reading Gemma’s journal and was still sprawled on the sofa in the guest cottage snoring.

  Diana groaned. “I’m making this worse and worse,” she said. “I could tell he was interested, that’s all. From the minute you showed up at Winden House. He was irritated, but in a good way. And it’s been a while. Not since he was irritated, but since he was interested. A really long while. And you’re obviously nice.”

  “I am?”

  “Anyway, you’ll be desperately relieved to hear this is not why I dragged you out in the rain.”

  “It’s not raining.” Griff instinctively glanced at the large picture window. Was it his imagination or was the slate-colored sky starting to sag?

  “It’s going to.” She stopped as their salads were delivered. There was another pause for sprinkling ground pepper and reordering drinks.

  When they were alone again, Diana said, “What I told you on the phone is true. This isn’t something that is going to change anything for anyone, which is why it never came out before.”

  Griff restrained himself to an even, “Go on.”

  Diana sipped her wine, took another bite of salad, clearly working herself up to it. He controlled his impatience the best he could, eating his own salad, not rushing her, not letting himself wonder about whatever this big mystery was with Pierce—and why someone else would have to do all the running.

  Diana said suddenly, “Brian had this little boy crush on Pierce. It was very cute. It really was. He adored Pierce. If Pierce was around, that was it. Nobody else was in the room. He was always trying to drag Pierce off to see something or to play with him.”

  “He was four.”

  “I know. He was a baby. But he was smart and he really was so cute.”

  “Right.” He could tell from the alarming shininess in Diana’s eyes that there was bad news ahead.

  “And Pierce was fourteen. He was like an adult compared to Brian. So of course he wasn’t always patient.”

  “Of course,” Griff said. There was a cold knot in his stomach. He could picture half a dozen horrific scenarios, a careless shove, a push down the stairs... Kids were so easily broken. And so frighteningly unaware of the fact.

  “He wasn’t a monster or anything. Don’t think that. Mostly he was good with Brian. It was sort of sweet. Anyway, that night Pierce and I were in Gemma and Matthew’s bedroom watching TV. The nursery was right next door.”

  “I know.”

  “Pierce said you did.” She sighed and fortified herself with another sip of wine. “Brian must have heard us because he snuck out of bed and came into the room. That was about eleven-thirty or so.”

  “How long was he in there with you?” Griff watched her expression closely.

  “Maybe ten minutes. Not very long. Pierce wasn’t in a patient mood that night. He didn’t want to be there at all. But our parents made him go because I wanted to. I wanted to see the costumes and the decorations. I loved Gemma. I wanted to see her in her dress.” Diana smiled faintly at some long ago memory.

  Griff was mentally calculating. This news narrowed the window of Brian’s kidnapping by over ninety minutes. How could anyone think that this was not relevant information? Surely it would have been easier to track individual people’s movements if the time frame was significantly reduced?

  “Who knows about this?”

  “We told our parents, of course. And Dad told Jarrett. They both agreed it had no bearing on the case.”

  Griff stared at her in disbelief. “So the police didn’t even know?”

  “Johnson had no alibi for the entire night. It changed nothing for him. And Dad and Uncle Jarrett both agreed that they didn’t want Pierce and me subjected to questioning, maybe even put on the witness stand.”

  “Your dad’s a lawyer. He knew you wouldn’t have been put on the witness stand. You’d have made a deposition in a nice private legal office.”

  It was hard to keep his anger banked down. The Mathers and the Arlingtons had taken it upon themselves to keep vital information from law enforcement. Okay. Maybe not vital information, because it was true that Johnson had no alibi for the entire evening. Ultimately, it probably wouldn’t have changed Johnson’s fate. But it might have made it easier to narrow down possible accomplices.

  And besides, it wasn’t up to the Mathers and Arlingtons to decide what information to withhold from the police.

  It was that arrogance, that blindness to all interests but self, that he so detested in people of their class.

  Diana was saying, “Pierce and I agreed we would never tell anyone. Never speak about it again.”

  “Why?” He couldn’t help it. He lost patience. “If nobody thought it was relevant, why was it hushed up all these years?”

  “Partly because the Arlingtons are afraid some bleeding heart liberal organization is going to take up Johnson’s cause, and they’ll grab on to any excuse to let him off the hook.”

  Maybe he deserves to be let off. He managed to keep from saying it aloud. After all, Johnson wasn’t an innocent bystander. He had deliberately taken advantage of the Arlingtons’ fear and desperation in his attempt to extort millions of dollars. Also, by placing himself in the middle of the search for Brian, he had derailed the hunt both for the real kidnapper and for Brian. So no, Johnson had to bear responsibility for his own actions.

  Which still didn’t make the rest of this any better.

  “And partly because Pierce...”

  Griff realized he had missed the rest of what Diana was saying. “Partly because Pierce what?”

  He was shocked to see tears in her eyes. “I think Pierce has always felt he was to blame.”

  “For Brian being taken? Why? I don’t understand.”

  She wiped at her eyes. “Because he wouldn’t let Brian stay with us that night. Brian was begging to watch TV with us, whining like little kids do, and Pierce was grumpy and he made him go back to bed. He walked him into his room and the whole way Brian was dragging his heels and pleading and kissing Pierce’s hand. He was such a little nut!” She gave a watery chuckle and wiped her eyes again. “But then afterwards...” She shook her head.

  “Pierce felt guilty.”

  “He was devastated. He believed if he’d let Brian stay with us, he’d have been safe. I think he still believes it.” She added somberly, “Because it’s probably true.”

  Griff was silent. Maybe it was true. He couldn’t help feeling sorry for Pierce. That was a crushing load of guilt to have to carry around all your life. And for no greater crime than insisting Brian stayed in bed like his mom wanted.

  Diana drew a deep breath. “We could hear him crying from the other room. We were afraid he was going to wake up Chloe. Finally he got quiet and I opened the door to see if he’d fallen asleep or if he’d snuck out again. He used to do that. Even when he was in a crib, he used to climb out. And he had. Fallen asleep, I mean. Mrs. Truscott was in there with him.
”

  Griff was still thinking about Pierce so it took a second for Diana’s words to register. “Wait. When did you say this was? What time?”

  “By then it must have been around midnight.”

  “Mrs. Truscott was in the nursery at midnight?”

  “Well, she wasn’t Mrs. Truscott then. She was only Wilma the maid. But yes. She was in there. She probably heard the baby monitor. They’d put it in the kitchen so Mrs. Cameron could hear—”

  “Slow down. You’re saying Mrs. Truscott was in the nursery at midnight.”

  “Right.”

  “Because according to her, she was in the nursery around ten o’clock.” Griff’s cell phone was ringing. He ignored it.

  Diana was untroubled by the discrepancy. “I know. She said Pierce and I were confused about the time. But we weren’t. It’s more likely that she was confused because she was rushing up and down the stairs all evening. We were just hanging out and watching TV.”

  “Are you telling me that this is something else the police never heard?”

  “Of course not. We said we’d heard Brian crying and I said I saw Mrs. Truscott. And she said she had been in the nursery earlier. It didn’t matter because she never left the house. Everyone vouched for her. She was never out of anyone’s sight for more than a couple of minutes.”

  “You’re not serious? Do you know how easy it is to lose track of people during a big event like that one, where everyone is busy and preoccupied with their own stuff?”

  Diana shook her head. “Griff, you’ve met her. Do you think Mrs. Truscott is a kidnapper?”

  Did he?

  No. At least not the kind of kidnapper who snatched a kid for money. But people took children for different reasons. Griff tried to imagine any of those reasons in connection with Wilma Truscott.

  Still no.

  “It doesn’t matter what I think,” he said. “You can’t tell by looking at someone if they’re capable of a crime.”

  “I think that depends.”

  Of course she did. She probably thought anyone not dressed in designer clothes was capable of anything.