Kingdom by the Sea (Romantic Suspense) (39 page)

A
girl in a blue dress with a white collar goes missing, not far from the beach,
near where Chester Northgate lived. 
Chester
jumps into the search and makes
himself a hero; he also happens to plant a big tree in an unusual spot on his
property soon after.  When his housekeeper tells him of the painting she saw at
Nina's house—the one of a girl in a blue dress with a white collar next to a
big tree—he suddenly hands her a wad of cash and tells her to go back and get the
painting.  When her mission fails—and soon after Nina Corday dies—Chester
contracts Craig Lucius in a scheme to get the painting out of that house,
telling Lucius whatever he needs to hear to go along.  Sure, Northgate could
have named a more famous artist than Demberto, but then he'd run the risk of
Lucius's greed overriding their alliance.  For enough money, Lucius would
chance it and break in, taking it all for himself.  That was the thing—there
was a psychology to working with others, no matter what the work.

Michael
couldn't deny that his theory was a jumbled mess.  It still didn't explain what
Chester
would have had
to do with Marlee Wurther's disappearance, if anything.  Or why a painting
reminiscent of the incident would obsess him so.  Either way, Michael had a
plan now.  If nothing else, it would distract Northgate and Lucius, and
potentially keep them from coming after Nicole again.  Hell, when Michael was
done, the last thing on Chester Northgate's mind would be Nicole Sheffield.

***

The
following morning began like every other at the
Chatham
police station. 
Sunlight slid through the wooden shutters and gave a striped caramel coat to
the battered, rustic furniture.  The phones were quiet.  Unceremoniously, Irene
dropped the morning mail on Donovan's desk and continued on to the coffee maker
behind him.  “Thanks,” he said, barely glancing at the stack, which was usually
junk mail.  Then a tall brown envelope caught his eye.  He pushed it out from
the bottom of the stack and saw the “overnight mail” sticker along the edge. 
“What's this one?”

“I
don't know,” Irene replied.  “I left my X-ray vision at home.”

With
a half-grin, Donovan tilted his head back.  She was leveling spoonfuls of
coffee out of the ceramic canister that sat on the file cabinet.  “How long?”
he asked, impatient for her coffee.

“Three
minutes, same as always.”  Around the station, Irene was motherly in more ways
than one.  It wasn't just the plump, matronly way she looked, but also the
efficient way she took care of them—and the untactful way she spoke her mind.

Never
much for letter openers, Donovan tore open the envelope with his bare hands. 
Pulled out the papers that were inside—three sheets, clipped together.  A
two-page printout of an article about a girl gone missing. 
What's this...?
Donovan thought, skimming the text. '99 was before his time in
Chatham
; he'd come to
town only two years earlier.  There was a circle in heavy black pen around the
photo that ran with the article.  Hmm, a photo of old
Chester
and two other people,
standing outside Northgate's home. 

Curiously,
Donovan flipped past the article; the third sheet was another printout.  This
one a photo of Northgate's house.  This time, the thick black pen circled the
tree in front of the house.  Beneath the picture, a message was scrawled in a
masculine, sloppy hand.  It read:
Want to solve an old crime?  Look under
the tree
.

Furrowing
his brow, Donovan flipped back to the top sheet, then to the second, then the
third, and so on, until he muttered aloud, “I'll be damned.”

“What
is it?” Officer Spackel said, now at the coffeemaker, pouring himself a cup. 

“It's
not done yet!” Irene called from across the room, but the men ignored her. 

“Look
at this,” Donovan said, passing the pages to Spackel, who glanced, then looked
doubtfully at Donovan.  “You don't think...”

Donovan
shrugged and stood up.  “Let's find out.”

“Wait...you
mean...”  Spackel seemed alarmed.  “No, wait.  We can't go over to Chester
Northgate's with this.”

“Why
not?” Donovan asked, grabbing his coat off the rack by the door.

“Because...” 
Helplessly, Spackel shrugged, looked around for the answer.  “Because it could
be a prank.  Probably
is
a prank.  It's been over ten years.  We can't
take
this
as anything more than an anonymous joke.”

“I
don't see a joke in that.  There's nothing funny about the implications,”
Donovan pointed out.  “Besides, I'm not suggesting we go over there and dig up
the man's property.  I'm only saying we should go ask him about this note.  Ask
him who might send a note like this to us.  If he's having problems with
anyone.”

“Ohh,”
Spackel said, nodding.  Visibly, his shoulders relaxed.

Donovan
squinted his gaze at him.  “You wouldn't happened to be
scared
of
Northgate now, would you, Spack?”

Faintly,
Spackel blushed and then profusely shook his head.  “No, of course not.  It's
just...well, the old man's big around here.  A town institution, I guess you
could say.  Not exactly someone you'd want to piss off.  But no, of course I'm
not
scared
of him.  He's just an old man.”

“That's
right,” Donovan agreed. 
Besides
, he thought,
what else was there to
do
?  The State Police had already taken over the investigation regarding
Abel Kelling, who'd been found dead in Nina Corday's basement. 

Now
Spackel reached for his own coat.  “Anyway, like you said, we're going over
there as more of a service to him.  To give him a heads-up about
this...joker...whoever he is.”

“Where
are you going?” Irene called to them, as she walked across to the file room,
which was really just a big walk-in closet adjacent the coffee pot. 

“Chester
Northgate's,” Donovan replied, crossing back to take the printouts from
Spackel's hand.  Quickly, he folded them and tucked them into his coat pocket. 

Irene's
eyes widened, clearly intrigued.  “Why?  Has something happened?  Some kind of
disturbance?”

“Nah,
nothing like that,” Spackel assured her.  “Doing a public service, that's all.”

“Like
what?” she pried.

“See
you later, Irene,” Donovan said and opened the door to hurry Spackel up.

“You
boys never tell me anything interesting!” Irene groused with maternal martyrdom
as the door slammed shut behind them.

With
his baseball cap pulled low and thick black jacket zipped up, Michael slipped
into
True
Heart
Hospital
and climbed the
stairs to the fourth floor.  Assuming everything was as he'd left it, Nicole
would probably be checking out today.  He wanted to check on her one last time,
just to make sure she was okay and that she was on her way back to
Boston
.  After
everything, he could only assume that she'd
want
to take Puddle and
return home. 

When
he neared her room, his gut tightened up.  He was actually nervous.  What would
she say to him?  Maybe she had left already?  Just as he glanced in the window,
he heard voices.  Carefully, he ducked to the side, where he could look through
the glass, but not be seen.  From here, he saw a petite woman with a blunt,
short hair cut and arms folded, standing a few feet from the bed.  Nicole was
sitting cross-legged on the bed, wearing fleece pants and a long-sleeve tee
shirt.  Someone must have brought her some fresh clothes; maybe the red-head
sitting at the foot of the bed.

Unexpectedly,
Michael heard a man's voice.  Where had that come from?  Shifting his stance by
the wall, now he could see better.  That had to be Nicole's dad.  “Nicole,” the
man said, “we're going to take you home with us today.  Your mother and I will
look after you.”

The
petite woman, who must've been her mom, nodded and said something that Michael
couldn't quite hear. 

Then
the red-headed one said, “You can stay with me if you want.”

“Thanks...”
Nicole began.  “But...I can't just pick up and go.  What about my stuff?  What
about the inventory on the house?”

“I'll
take care of that,” her dad said.  Her mom looked skeptical.  “I'll see to it
that the job gets done,” Nicole's dad clarified.  “We'll put it on hold if we
have to.  Until the police sort this thing out.” 
This thing
, Michael
thought.  Considering that Nicole's family was gathered around her, Michael
wondered what, exactly, she'd told them.

“I
still can't believe it,” Nicole's mom said then.  Her voice sounded sharp and
angry.  “You’ve been in
Chatham
for hardly more than two weeks!  How could all of
this happen in two weeks?  And how could it happen in a town like
Chatham
?  Never in all
the years I've known it...”  Her words drifted off as she shook her head,
clearly disgusted.

“I
know,” Nicole's dad agreed, and set his hand supportively on the woman's back. 
“But at least all he took were some paintings.  God knows what else could have
happened.”  Seeming uncomfortable with the thought, he changed the subject. 
“You have no idea who he was?  Or where he went?”

Every
muscle in him tightened as Michael waited to hear her response.  Through the
glass, he watched her face.  Gently, she licked her lips.  Paused.  Brushed her
hair behind her ear.  So damn pretty.  “I don't know who he was, Dad.  I know
that he really wanted the paintings; he talked about how much they'd be worth. 
Then Michael came in and...I was able to get away.  I really don't remember too
much in detail.  I guess bumping my head...”

So
that was it.  She'd told her family—and presumably the police—about Lucius
breaking in and stealing the paintings, but not about Michael's connection to
all this.  As far as Nicole was implying, Michael was just what he had seemed
to be all along: her friend who'd been in the right place at the right time. 
It confirmed what he had kind of suspected—because if she had wanted to turn
Michael in, she could have done it by now. 

“Maybe
he was some kind of obsessed fan of Aunt Nina's work,” the red-head said now.

“Well,
either way, I'm sure the police will catch up with him and we'll resolve this
whole matter,” her dad said.  “In the meantime, there is no reason for you to
stay in
Chatham
at this time. 
The house isn't ready for you to put on the market yet, anyway.  Take a break
from all that's happened.”

“What
I can't believe is that you never even told us you were grabbed on the beach
when you first arrived!” Nicole's mother exclaimed.  “How could you keep that
from me?”

“I'm
sorry, Mom, I didn't want you to worry.  It seemed like an isolated incident at
the time, and very atypical, according to the police.”

Affectionately,
the redhead tapped Nicole's leg.  “It sounds like it's still atypical.  I mean,
we're not talking about a crime wave here.  We're talking about one particular
criminal with one specific agenda.  In theory, once he's caught, crime is
extinguished again.”

“Alyssa,
what's your point?” their mother barked, casting a disapproving look at her. 
“Are you saying that Nicole should
stay
here instead of coming home with
me?”

“No,
no,” Alyssa amended quickly.  “I was just making an observation.  You know,
about the more general, sociological context of the crime.” 

Michael
wrinkled his brow at that one, and then heard Nicole say, “Mom, she's in law
school, what do you want?” 

Despite
himself, Michael grinned.  He really would miss her.  She just had this easy,
calming way about her.  He had a feeling both women were a little afraid of
their mother.  “In any case,” Nicole continued, “Whoever he was, I just want to
forget about him.  The police have a detailed description from me.  I've
reported the theft.  And now I want to put it out of my head.  Go back home
with my dog and try to put this whole thing behind me.”

“About
your dog,” her mother began, “does she shed?  Because—”

“If
it's a problem, they can stay with me,” Alyssa offered. 

“No,
no,” her mother jumped back in, “She'll stay with me.”

“Thanks
you guys,” Nicole said, appearing to address all three of them. 

“You
don't have to thank us,” her father said.

“By
the way,” Alyssa said, “what ever happened to Michael?  Where is he?  I thought
I'd finally get to meet this guy you have a huge monster crush on.”

Despite
her sister's lighthearted tone, Nicole twisted her mouth in disappointment.  A
knife turned in Michael's chest.  Abruptly, she covered the look, but he'd seen
it. 

“He
left,” Nicole said simply.

“Why?”
Alyssa asked, sounding surprised.

Casually,
Nicole shrugged.  “His vacation was over, he had to go back to
Boston
, that's all.”