Dead By Dawn (3 page)

“He says that he thinks he’s my brother.”

“I met your brother once, didn’t I?” Lindsay asked.

“Well, yes and no.” Tracy paused. “You met my brother Dan. He’s not really my brother. He’s my uncle. I was raised by my grandparents.”

All three of them let that information settle. “So, he could be your brother?” Lindsay finally inquired.

“I don’t think so. From what my grandparents told me, they are pretty sure my mother is dead. They have had people try to track her down. No one ever found her,” Tracy said.

“If you want my opinion,” Jeff said, “It’s probably someone looking for money.”

“Why would you think that?” Lindsay asked.

“Do you know how many of my clients have long-lost relatives come out of the wood work looking for a handout after they’ve made it big?” he asked.

“I can see that,” Tracy said. “My roommate in college did the same thing.”

“Why don’t we do this,” Lindsay said, “I will contact this guy and see if I can get a feel for what he wants?”

“If I think he is looking for a quick buck, we’ll shut him down quickly and quietly,” she said.

“That sounds good to me. Tracy?”

She paused and thought about it. “I can live with that. I don’t want some stalker around. My husband is out of town a lot right now,” she said.

Lindsay was able to get a phone number for Jeremy Davenport in San Luis Obispo. Elizabeth Davenport answered the phone and informed Lindsay that Jeremy had recently gotten a job in Los Angeles. She would not give out Jeremy’s new number, but did take Lindsay’s information and promised to pass it on to her grandson.

Ten minutes later, Jeremy Davenport called her. “My grandmother said you called about Tracy McCarthy.”

“I did. Ms. McCarthy has hired me because you have been trying to contact her. I was wondering if we could meet and discuss this,” Lindsay said.

“That would be great,” he said. “I live in Manhattan Beach.”

Lindsay thought; that’s not good. Isn’t that where Tracy lives? “Where would you like to meet?”

“Do you know The Kettle?” he asked. “It’s at the corner of Manhattan Beach and Highland.”

“I’ll find it. What time?”

“How about noon?”

She looked at the clock in the kitchen that said ten after ten. “I can do that.”

“I’m tall with shoulder length brown hair,” he said. “How will I know you?” he asked.

“I’m tall with blond hair and I’ll have a baby with me,” she said. She hadn’t wanted to take Evan, but by the time she showered and got on the freeway, she was barely going to make it.

***

Parking at the beach was tough, even for a weekday. After circling the block several times, Lindsay finally found a metered spot close to the Kettle. Outside, there was a line of patrons waiting for lunch. The restaurant two blocks up from the Manhattan Pier had been a fixture in town for years. Jeremy Davenport was easy to spot. He was about six-foot-three. He saw her with the baby and walked right up. Evan was asleep and would hopefully stay that way. “Do you want to eat or just talk?” Jeremy asked.

“Let’s walk down to the pier and talk,” Lindsay said. “I’m here because you are scaring Tracy McCarthy. She thinks you may be stalking her.”

Jeremy stopped walking and looked at Lindsay. He put his hands in a gesture that screamed hands off. “No, ma’am. That is not my intention here.”

Lindsay looked at him intently. “What is your intention?”

“I was orphaned when I was a baby. I think Tracy may be my sister, Kelly,” he said seriously.

“Why do you think that?” Lindsay asked.

“I’d have to show you,” he stammered. He took a file from the navy blue backpack he was wearing. He flipped through it and handed Lindsay a sketch.

The sketch looked exactly like Tracy McCarthy. “What is this?” she asked.

“I had an artist do an age rendering from a picture of my sister, Kelly. This was the result,” he said.

“Why did you have this done?” she asked.

“When I was a baby, my parents were murdered. My older sisters were abducted. My sister, Dayna, was found murdered a few days later. Kelly was never found,” he said.

“How old were you when this happened?” she asked.

“Three months old,” he said.

“So you don’t remember anything?” Lindsay asked. “You just know what others have told you.”

“I was raised by my grandparents,” he said. “They told me that the rest of my family was dead.”

“Then why do you think this person is your sister?” Lindsay asked, confused.

“Because when I was a teenager, I found out that Kelly was never found dead or alive,” he said.

“Children that have been missing this long are rarely found,” Lindsay said.

“I know all of the odds. I think Tracy McCarthy is my sister,” he said firmly. “Look, you are a private investigator, right?”

“Yes,” she acknowledged.

“I have a hunch. Will you investigate it?”

“I charge six hundred dollars a day plus expenses.”

“I can pay that. My grandfather left me money when he died,” Jeremy said.

She thought for a moment. “Where and when did your parents die?”

“September 2nd, 1977,” he said quickly.

She wrote the dates down. “Where?”

“Shandon, California,” he said.

She wrote it down. “Here’s what I’m willing to do. Let me check out your story about your parents’ deaths. I’ll call you by Friday if I decide to take your case.”

“Thank you so much. Finally, someone is listening,” he said.

“There’s one other thing.”

“Anything, you name it,” he answered excitedly.

“I’m going to need to call your grandmother,” she said.

His demeanor deflated. “Why?” he asked sadly.

“Because I want to verify that she raised you and find out what she knows,” Lindsay said.

“My grandmother would have a fit if she thought I was dredging all of this mess up,” he said flatly.

“Are there any other relatives I can talk to?” she asked.

“Maybe my aunt Carol,” he said. “She knows I have been looking into it.”

“Okay, Aunt Carol it is. Give me her number,” she said. “I will let you know on Friday.”

On the drive home, Lindsay called the Paso Robles Police Department to talk to her old friend Dixon Calhoun. Lindsay’s mother Helen had grown up in Paso Robles. Lindsay and her sister had spent many summers there visiting their grandmother.

Dixon was an old friend from those days. He’d lived two blocks away from Grandma Baker and had been a constant playmate.

“Dixon, it’s Lindsay.”

“Oh, the prettiest cop on the planet,” he joked. “How’s homicide? Deader than usual?” He laughed heartily at his own joke.

“Very funny. Actually, I quit the department and had a baby since we last talked,” she said.

“You quit?” he asked in surprised voice. “Why are you calling me? You want a job?”

“Ha,ha. No, I need information. I’m working as a PI now.”

“Ouch, now there’s a demotion. What are you looking for?” he asked.

“An old case. David and Shelly Davenport were murdered in 1977,” she said.

“I remember that. Those murders were big news around here. Everyone in town was scared,” he said.

“Do you remember why?”

“Back then, no one locked their doors. Word around town was the perps just walked in and started shooting. Killed the mom and dad and took the kids. All except the baby,” he said.

“What’s the real story?” she asked.

“I could see if we have the file someplace. Some local guy went to prison for the killings,” he said.

“How do you know that? This happened when you were a kid.”

“I just remember that from some place. Maybe just a rumor,” he said. “I remember my parents talking about drugs being involved too.”

“I’ll see what we have and send it off to you. So, you have a little one now. Boy or girl?” he asked.

“We have a boy. His name is Evan,” she said proudly.

“How’s your mom doing?” he asked.

“She’s doing great. She’s dividing her time between here and San Luis,” she said.

“That must have been some shock finding her parents after all those years.” Dixon said. He was referring to her mother finding out that she was kidnapped from a family when she was a child. A year earlier, when Lindsay’s grandmother died, her mother had discovered the truth.

“Her new family has taken to all of us. My grandmother dotes over Evan,” she said.

Her next call was Carol Davenport Anders, Jeremy’s aunt. “Jeremy told me you’d be calling,” she said in an annoyed, but polite tone. “I haven’t told my mother that he’s doing this. She’s going to think he’s ungrateful after all they have done for him.”

“I don’t understand,” Lindsay said.

“First, he doesn’t go into the family business and now he’s dredging up this unpleasantness,” she said.

“I’m still deciding whether I want to take this case,” Lindsay pointed out.

“What do you want to know?” Carol asked.

“I understand your brother and his wife were murdered. Is that correct?” Lindsay asked.

“Yes, they were,” she said.

“Did the police ever catch their killers?” Lindsay asked.

“Some guy is doing time up in Mule Creek. He got life in prison.”

“What do you remember from that time?” Lindsay asked.

“What do you mean?” Carol asked, not understanding the question.

“Did the police have any idea who or why they were murdered?” Lindsay asked.

“They thought that Shelly was involved in drugs,” she answered.

“Do you remember why they thought that?”

“Because they found a bag of pot in the house,” she said.

“That was it?” Lindsay said. That’s pretty thin.

“No, that wasn’t it. They had too much money to just be farmers,” Carol said.

“In the house or in the bank?” Lindsay asked.

“In the bank. There was a little bit of cash missing from the house. Might have been a motive for the murders,” Carol answered.

“So why do you think they took the children?” Lindsay asked.

“They killed the kids. Except for Jeremy. The older girls probably saw the killers and had to be killed,” Carol reasoned. “That’s what we thought anyway.”

“Your parents raised Jeremy?” Lindsay asked.

“Yes, after a long, drawn out fight with Shelly’s parents. My mom and dad got custody of Jeremy,” Carol said. “It kind of pissed me and my brother off. David and my Dad got into an argument over business and my parents go through this huge custody battle to get his kid.”

“Was David estranged from your parents?” Lindsay asked. Her curiosity piqued.

“Our family has farmed for generations. We own a lot of farm land. Dad sent David to college so he could take over the family business. When David got out, he worked for dad for a while and then decided to do his own thing,” she said.

“So you and your brother don’t work in the business?” Lindsay asked.

“Oh, we do. But, David was the smart one. Dad was hoping he could expand the business. Instead, David inherited his own farm from my grandfather and was intent on starting his own vineyard,” she said. “Dad was always waiting for David to throw up the red flag and come running back with his tail between his legs.”

Nice family, Lindsay thought. “Do you have any idea how I can get a hold of Shelly’s family?”

“I don’t know. Her maiden name was Doran. She was from Modesto, I think.” Carol paused for a moment. “You’re not really going to help Jeremy with all of this, are you?”

“Why not?” Lindsay asked.

“There’s nothing good that can come out of this. All of it happened a long time ago,” she said. “Just let it all go.”

“That’s not really up to me. It’s up to Jeremy,” Lindsay said. “You mentioned that Jeremy decided not to go into the family business.”

“Yes, he went off on the same stupid tangent his parents did,” Carol said.

“And what would that be?” Lindsay asked.

“Grapes,” Carol said. “David would have been one of the first people out here to plant grapes. Jeremy is a little late.”

Lindsay told Jeff about her meeting with Jeremy Davenport over dinner. “The part about the aged sketch sounds kind of creepy,” he said.