Three Dog Island Page 14

  “Shouldn’t be too difficult. It’s her favorite subject.”

  I hugged Sasha and patted Whistler on the head. “Just be careful, okay? Don’t let her catch on that you’re actually asking for a reason. “

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be very stealthy . . . and act impressed with her knowledge and connections.”

  “That should work.” I handed her a list of phone numbers. “Call me or Charlie or MacGregor if you need anything. We’re the only ones, besides Ned, who know about Josh, okay?”

  “Promise. Now will you stop worrying and have a good trip?”

  I nodded as I drove off down the back road toward home. I loved having Sasha as a neighbor. In a few very short months she had become one of my closest friends. And now she was turning into a pretty good spy. She’d certainly discovered more than I had and in a lot less time.

  “You’ll be okay?” I asked Josh for the third time. Or maybe it was the fourth.

  “You don’t even know how okay I am being here.”

  “But alone?”

  “I’m not alone.” Rocky took his cue and put his head in Josh’s lap. “And I have yours and Charlie’s and MacGregor’s cell numbers. And Sasha’s numbers.”

  “You won’t get bored and do something silly?”

  “Like throw a party for all the teenagers on the island?”

  “Not funny.” Yet it had brought a smile to my face as did the fact that he was emerging more and more from his shell. “Like walk into town.”

  “Do you always worry this much?”

  “Kind of comes with the mother territory.”

  He raised a single eyebrow. “Did your kids ever threaten to fire you?” The warmth in his eyes betrayed his words.

  “All the time,” I told him.

  “Well, you really don’t have to worry about me. I’ve got my school work now and I’m still doing computer searches. And I’m sure Sasha will come check up on me, right? And I found a few more things I can do around the house.”

  “Really, what? Do you have the materials?”

  “Your aunt’s bedroom door needs a little sanding. There’s sand paper in the garage. And some of the kitchen cabinet doors hinges need tightening. Stuff like that.”

  “Josh, how do you know how to do all these things?”

  He shrugged. “I guess I just learned what I had to learn. When it was just me and my mom, she couldn’t really afford to pay anyone to fix stuff and we usually lived in pretty crummy places where the landlords didn’t care if we had running water or not, so we kinda learned to do it ourselves. You know?”

  I didn’t really, at least not from experience. “I’m sorry.”

  He stopped his sigh midstream and looked across the room. “I was also thinking maybe I could refinish that chest if you’d like.”

  I turned to look at my aunt’s wonderful old armoire. “It does need something, doesn’t it? It’s one of my favorite pieces of furniture but it’s looking a bit drab.”

  “I can sand and refinish it for you, but I need the right materials.”

  “I’ll pick up whatever materials you need when I get home.”

  “So you can stop worrying. I’ve got plenty to keep me busy.” I wondered if he was aware of the quiver in his voice.

  “Okay, but you don’t mind if I check in a couple times a day, do you?”

  “If I did, would it stop you?”

  “No.”

  He smiled. “Guess I’d better not mind then.”

  I had to admit, I was looking forward to this trip. I loved my island, especially now that I was feeling welcome here, but it was small. Being on land where you couldn’t stand in one spot and look in all four directions and see water—a slight exaggeration but only slight—had a certain appeal.

  I arrived at Charlie’s before noon. He greeted me with a hug and a cup of his famous Scottish breakfast tea that was guaranteed to keep you awake until breakfast the following morning.

  “I’m all packed and ready to go,” he said. “We can drive my Bentley. She hasn’t been on the open road for a wee while.”

  I glanced around the room, not sure what I was looking for.

  Apparently Charlie knew. “He’s giving a lecture at the University.”

  “What are we talking about here?”

  “MacGregor.”

  I shook my head in denial, but the gleam in his eyes told me he saw through me. No surprise. He’d been my father for how long?

  On the drive from Seattle to Portland, we talked about everything but MacGregor. I brought Charlie up to date on Josh and how he was doing. We covered Bryn and Cameron, my younger siblings. We even talked briefly about my mother and my older sister Charlotte who spoke parsimoniously to us. And we talked about Matthew who hung out at Charlie’s when he wanted to get out of the dorm but didn’t have time to make the trip up to Anamcara to see his mother and preferred not to see his father. We talked about Holly who had emailed both of us photos of her first dance class at college. And we talked about what it would be like to see his ex-wife, my ex-step-mother.

  And we discussed the cases I was working on. “We haven’t found anything on the dogs so we’re assuming they’re ours for the adopting,” I told him. “And as far as this art tampering business, my friend Sasha has a theory she’s working on. But I haven’t gotten anywhere. I must really be off my game. I feel as though every direction I turn, I get stuck.”

  “A wee bit distracted, are you?”

  “I do have a teenager and a dog living with me now. That’s enough to distract anyone.”

  “Right you are, lass.”

  “Not that it even matters. Jasper thinks it’s a waste of my time and that perhaps he imagined the entire thing. I suppose I should respect his wishes and drop it.”

  “Aye, and it would be easy to do—if his wishes weren’t contrary to your intuition.”

  I sucked in my breath. Charlie was right. My sixth chakra was telling me that something was going on with Jasper’s sculptures . . . and it was something that I needed to know.

  “So,” Charlie said, “with this art theft case, are you making assumptions that you shouldn’t?”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, for one thing, are you trusting people because they were Winnie’s friends?”

  I thought about that for a few moments before answering. “I think it’s more that I’m trusting Winnie’s intuition about people.”

  “Fair enough.” He too had known and loved my great aunt, even if she was related to my mother. “Are you making assumptions about the case itself and what happened?”

  “Well, Josh came up with the theory that someone accidentally damaged the model and didn’t want to confess so they replaced it.”

  “In other words, you’ve been investigating that possibility and you’ve ignored the possibility that it was done intentionally.”

  “That’s exactly what I’ve been doing.” Not only that, but I had forgotten the answer that had come to me—that they had stolen the clay model instead of the stone sculpture and replaced it with a fake because they did not want anyone to know it was stolen. It was easy to push aside that theory. It made no sense. What value could the model possibly have? But then, intuition and logic were not necessarily compatible.

  “That’s not like you, lassie.”

  “No, it’s not.” I was the one who usually kept Charlie from doing exactly that.

  “Definitely distracted lately.”

  “Must be. With all these cases floating around in my head and a teenage boy and a new dog in my life, it’s understandable.”

  Charlie glanced over at me for an instant. “Still trying to convince yourself that they’re the cause, are you?” The mischievous gleam in his eye told me exactly whom he was crediting with my distraction.

  Now was my chance. He’d given me how many opportunities to talk about MacGregor? I could talk to Charlie about anything! So, why was this so darned awkward?

  He glanced over at me again, only this glance
was a lot louder than the last one. “You have something on your mind, lass?”

  I swallowed hard and looked out my side window. “Why do you think MacGregor never got married?”

  I could hear Charlie’s silent laugh. He was wise enough to keep it silent. “Why do you think?”

  “Never found the right woman, I suppose.”

  He glanced over at me. “Either that or she was already married.”

  My heart was beating so hard I thought for sure that Charlie could hear it.

  “I’ll just say one thing about Malcolm MacGregor, lass, and then I’ll shut ma wee trap about him. He’s the best man I’ve ever known.”

  Coming from Charlie that said a lot. That said everything. Especially because I felt the same way.

  Chapter 14

  Time had stood still for Catherine, possibly even gone backwards. Her blond hair covered every strand of grey and her green eyes were highlighted by her masterful application of mascara and eye shadow, a skill she had attempted to instill in me when I was a young teenager.

  She greeted me first with a generous hug. “Jenny! It’s so good to see you, sweetheart. I’m so sorry about the divorce.”

  “It’s okay,” I assured her. “It was for the best.”

  I could feel Charlie nodding behind me. I stepped back so Catherine was free to welcome him into her ample bosom. Their hug lasted as long as it ever had during their marriage. “You would still have to be as adorable and debonair as always, wouldn’t you, Charlie?”

  “Still gorgeous, you are, my love.”

  “Such a charmer.” She motioned us toward the house, a contemporary upscale tract home. “Come, come, you two, I can’t wait to get you settled in so we can catch up.”

  She showed us each to our rooms, both with en suite bathrooms. I wondered why she didn’t just usher Charlie into her master bedroom where she really wanted him.

  We joined Catherine in the living room for drinks. She had McEwans for Charlie and cabernet for me. She checked the oven to be certain dinner was on track before answering Charlie’s question about her new job with a local advertising firm. The opposite of my mother, Catherine was relaxed and pleasant and easy to be around. I could see why Charlie had been attracted to her after he and my mother had divorced. Catherine had no tendencies toward martyrdom. She allowed herself to laugh.

  “So, tell me all about your mission.” She looked from one of us to the other.

  Charlie filled her in with as few specifics as he could. I sat silently, watching the body language between the two of them, the smiles, the lean of the shoulders, the tilt of the heads, the soft blushes, the hands casually brushing each other’s leg. A wave of nostalgia washed over me. We’d had fun together, the three of us. She was never one of those step mothers who resented her husband’s children by a former marriage. Instead she had embraced us and taken us under her wing, especially me because I had been the first to move in with them.

  “Where exactly is Kirkwood?” I asked, the name catching my attention and pulling me from my reverie.

  “It’s where this copper Mark works.”

  “It’s not part of the Portland police department?”

  “No, it’s separate. Only one station which is where he happens to work. Josh’s mom and step father live in southwest Portland, not far from Kirkwood.”

  “So, what’s the plan?” Catherine asked.

  Charlie and I looked at each other and shrugged. “Looks like we’ll punt,” he answered.

  Catherine flashed her bright red lipstick smile. “You haven’t changed a bit, Charlie McNair.”

  “Is that a good thing, luv?”

  “Definitely.”

  I had to think for a moment why they’d gotten divorced. Oh yes, Charlie loved life.

  Catherine loved the good life.

  I would have recognized her without the photograph. She looked exactly how Josh had described her, petite, pretty, and very frightened. I sat outside the diner for a long time watching her.

  Catherine had loaned me one of her cars so Charlie and I could go our separate ways. We had both awakened with plans intact. After checking in with Josh, I had slept soundly. I had no idea where Charlie had ended up sleeping. Actually I had a pretty good idea.

  After breakfast, Charlie had gone to talk to Al Wallace’s boss on the pretense that he worked for a magazine and was looking for some truckers to feature in his next article.

  I headed for the diner just outside of Kirkwood. I had eaten very little breakfast in case I needed to order some at the diner. But for the time being, I sat in my car observing Grace Wallace as she worked. At one point she had looked straight at me through the diner window. It made me wonder if she had her son’s sixth sense and wisdom. No, if she had, would she have married two abusive men?

  After sitting there for fifteen minutes, it was time to go inside. I was on a mission. I needed to find out the reason her son was in danger. I needed to find out how she was doing and possibly even let her know that her son was okay. I would entrust that decision to my intuition. But I had a feeling I would not get any answers to my questions without sharing that bit of information.

  Just as I started to open the car door, a cop car pulled in a couple spaces over. Quickly I closed my door. I pulled out my cell phone and pushed buttons until I came to the photograph Josh had downloaded from the computer onto my phone. Sure enough. None other than Mark Simpson.

  Could my timing be any worse? Or maybe this was a good thing. I might not get the opportunity to talk to Josh’s mother alone, but I could certainly take advantage of the opportunity to hone my eavesdropping skills.

  Mark Simpson sat down at the counter. An elderly man happily munching on his biscuits and gravy and reading his morning newspaper was seated at the end furthest from the vinyl barstool Mark had occupied. He wanted to talk to Grace Wallace and he didn’t want anyone else within earshot. It was highly unlikely that they would talk about anything important with me sitting there. Unless . . . The sign language book I had pulled out for Josh popped into my mind. I had done it before. Why not now? Hopefully no one in the diner knew sign language or they’d know I was a fraud.

  I selected the barstool two over from Mark Simpson’s. I gave them both a friendly grin. Mark’s less than friendly scowl and Grace’s wince did not elude me. I picked up a menu from the holder on the counter and began browsing. The sooner I convinced them that I could not hear them, the better. Grace grabbed the coffee and came over to fill my cup.

  “Would you like coffee this morning?” she asked.

  I answered in sign language and pointed to my ears to show I had not heard her.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, holding up the coffee pot and pointing toward my cup.

  I smiled and nodded. She smiled back. She had her son’s smile, the one that didn’t go all the way to his eyes.

  I pointed to the menu and put up a finger to let her know I would order in a minute.

  Grace nodded and went over to talk to Mark Simpson. I could feel him controlling her with his nervously tapping foot, his arms crossed against his chest, and his undeviating scowl. What was he doing here? Was it convenient to his station? Did her husband know he hung out here? But the most blatant tip-off that something was amiss was the fact that he was alone. Policemen rarely patrolled alone. Where was his partner?

  “Convenient,” he said under his breath to Grace, nodding in my direction.

  She didn’t respond.

  “When does Al get back?”

  “Tomorrow night.”

  “Good.”

  Why was that good? Was something going on between them? Did it give them a free night together? Or was it good he was coming back that soon because Mark needed him for something?

  “When’s he head north again?”

  “This weekend.”

  “Perfect. I need him to make a run up to the station.”

  Josh was right. It didn’t make sense. Why would Al be going to the police station? It had to
be a code for something else.

  I waited patiently as I pretended to scan the menu, but no more information came. I suspected that although he believed I was deaf, he was reticent to talk in front of me.

  Grace kept looking over at me to see if I was ready to order but I was taking my time perusing the menu.

  “What is wrong with you?” Mark asked.

  “Nothing,” she answered a little too quickly.

  “You’re as skittish as a cat on a griddle.”

  No doubt for good reason.

  She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. You’ve been a mess since that kid of yours took off.”

  She sighed and said, “What do you expect? I’m worried about him.”

  “Yeah, me too,” Mark mumbled.

  “Are you?” Grace was as naïve as Josh was wise.

  Mark cleared his throat and took a sip of his coffee. “Yeah, of course. He’s your kid. He’s missing.”

  “Thanks,” she said.

  I glanced up at her out of the corner of my eye. Was she really that naïve that she was buying his compassionate act? Maybe not. Maybe she was playing him. Maybe she just wanted him to think she bought his act.

  “We’ll find him, don’t worry.”

  “Thank you, Mark,” she said. He did not flinch at the lack of sincerity. “But I don’t know if he wants to come home. We had that terrible fight and he just took off like that. “

  Okay, so she wasn’t naïve after all. She was just a really good actress. She had to convince him that Josh had run away on his own due to a fight with his mother. And of course, Mark would offer to try to find him. And he would put the word out to the police network that he was a runaway. Maybe that was why Josh had kept seeing cops everywhere he went. Maybe they were good cops looking for a runaway.

  Then again, maybe not. Would Mark risk giving Josh the perfect opportunity to come in contact with a legitimate cop who he might confide in? A good cop who might believe Josh? It was far more likely that he would put his network of corrupt cops on the job.

  “Has he called you?” Mark asked her.