Rough Harbor (14 page)

Queensbay was not a bustling metropolis, but there was enough in town that people could easily shop here, instead of always heading out to the large stores that lined the highway. On an evening like this, when the cold was settling down and there was a hint of rain, or possibly even some snow, everyone was staying close to home. People were coming in and out of the stores, nodding at one another and smiling.

Caitlyn looked around and stepped up to the pay phone, one of the last of its kind, lining up the change in front of her. Her breath froze around her as she glanced up and down the village street. In a place like Queensbay, which prided itself on its cleanliness and tidiness, the pay phone was in sharp contrast to that dearly held belief. Graffiti, mostly obscene, was scrawled over it in permanent black marker. Dried, blackened patches of gum were stuck along the metal casing, and there were crumpled bits of paper lodged along the sides.

She could only hope that the cold killed most of the germs that lived on the phone, but to be on the safe side, she kept her gloves on and dialed the number she’d found for Flynn. This was one call she didn’t want to make from the office, where she was seeing strange looks and sensing the cold shoulder, nor from her own cell phone. She was beginning to feel like it was better that no one knew about her association with Flynn. Perhaps it was paranoia, perhaps it wasn’t, but she couldn’t be too careful.

It had taken her more than a week to decide to call him back. His last words had haunted her, keeping her awake at night, even lying next to the quiet, sleeping Noah. She hadn’t put the past behind her; she was obsessed with it. All she could think about was Flynn and his offer.

She waited as the line rang and rang. Three, four, five rings, and then it switched to voicemail. Caitlyn listened to the raspy voice on the other end, debating. The phone beeped and still she paused, waiting, and then said in a rush, before she could think anything more about it, “Flynn, it’s Caitlyn Montgomery. I want to talk. Call me.”

She held the phone tightly, gripping so hard she could see her knuckles turn white, waiting, for what? Him to pick up. Quickly she slammed the phone down. What had she done?

Caitlyn glanced around, and her mouth went dry. Her eyes darted quickly, and she looked for a place to hide, but the phone was not in a booth, simply an open, exposed phone that barely protected her conversation, let alone her actual self.

Marion, Mrs. Biddle’s housekeeper, was walking down the street and smiling. Caitlyn took a deep breath and eased the panic from her, stepping back from the phone and jamming her hands into the pockets of her coat, turning to face the beaming Marion.

“Well, we were just thinking about you,” Marion said, by way of hello. “Adriana tried to call you at your office to invite you for dinner.”

Caitlyn smiled and stamped her feet for warmth. Noah was in California, briefly, attending to some pressing business. She wondered if Adriana knew and that’s why the invitation was being extended. Adriana had sources everywhere.

“Please come. Adriana could use some company. You don’t have any other plans, do you?”

“I couldn’t impose.” Caitlyn knew she was being silly. Marion lived to feed people.

“Nonsense,” Marion said. “She already called your office, but they said that you had stepped out. She never does seem to be able to reach you at home.” Caitlyn chose not to respond to that.

“Why don’t you come along with me now? She’ll be so happy to see you. We’re having my famous pot roast, and my chocolate cake that you used to like so much.”

Caitlyn wavered. Marion’s pot roast was no joke, a mouth watering, hearty dinner that she remembered from long ago. That, and the fact that all that awaited her at home was a frozen pizza for one, was enough to convince her. Flynn could wait. It would be better if he did, probably more convincing.

“All right, dinner would be wonderful,” Caitlyn accepted, and Marion’s smile, if possible, grew wider as Caitlyn offered to carry her bags to the car for her. Marion chatted on, and Caitlyn let the wave of talk wash over her, a welcome relief from her other concerns.

<<>>

She had been blindsided by Adriana. All careful planning on the woman’s part, luring Caitlyn in for a friendly dinner in order to sic the ancient and not quite coherent Mrs. Smith-Sullivan on her.

Mrs. Smith-Sullivan claimed she was being robbed and could prove it. Caitlyn had paid attention, under Adriana’s watchful eye, knowing that if she blew her off again, she would hear about it.

It was almost time for the chocolate cake before Mrs. Smith-Sullivan, also known as Sully to her friends, told the story.

“The money is not in my account.”

“What do you mean?” Caitlyn had tried to reach for another glass of wine, but Adriana had moved it just out of reach. Caitlyn shot her a look, but Adriana frowned at her. Listening to Sully required concentration.

“I went to get money from my account, and they said there wasn’t enough there. I told them they were mistaken.”

“Do you regularly get money from this account?”

Sully shook her head and waited as Marion brought in the chocolate cake.

“No. It’s a special account. It’s fed from my Randall account, and I rarely touch it. Only this was a special occasion.”

“Her grandson got into medical school,” Adriana said.

“And I wanted to give him some money for it.”

Caitlyn nodded. “Congratulations.”

“So I went to get the money. A certified check and they said there wasn’t enough money in the account. I was certain they were mistaken because I am supposed to have money transferred into that account on a regular basis. And, according to all of my statements, there was no reason why the money shouldn’t have been there.”

“Okay,” Caitlyn said carefully. She hoped it was all just a misunderstanding on Sully’s part.

“Well, I called and complained.”

“Who did you call?”

“Tommy Anderson.”

“And?”

“Well, he looked into it and said there must have been some mistake.”

“Did you get your money?”

“Eventually.”

<<>>

It wasn’t until after Sully had left that Adriana really came after her.

“Thank you for coming over here, Caitlyn.”

“It’s not a problem,” Caitlyn said, as she took her last sip of coffee.

“Are you sure?”

“What are you asking, Adriana?” Caitlyn looked at her.

“Something that is none of my business. I’m old; it’s my right. I am just wondering why you’re here with me, instead of someplace else.”

Caitlyn put her cup down in her saucer. So Adriana did know. “Noah had to go back to California for a day or two.”

“I see.” Adriana looked Caitlyn over carefully. The glow, which had been on her cheeks the past few weeks, had dulled. She looked tired, a little drawn.

“You know,” Adriana said, “I remember when you were younger.” Caitlyn looked up, about to say something, but Adriana rushed on, “I remember that summer quite well. Where had you been?”

“I went abroad for a term, in high school. To Paris.”

“Yes, I think you needed that time away to fully emerge. I mean, you had changed slowly, but we all needed that time apart to realize how much you had grown, how much of a young lady you had become. It was hard for your grandfather to accept that. You weren’t a little girl anymore, and your mother, I believe, was away.”

Caitlyn nodded. Her mother had decided to spend part of the summer in an artists’ colony in Maine. Once again, it had been just Caitlyn and her grandfather, an arrangement they were used to and perfectly happy with.

“Noah Randall was home from college, deep in it with his father, trying to convince him that he would never be just a banker, trying to get the money to start his company. He came to ask me for advice. Did you know that?”

Caitlyn shook her head. She hadn’t known that.

“I told him to be careful about it. That what he wanted to do was difficult, that there was a limited amount of success of any kind available for these ‘start up’ businesses. He told me he didn’t care and explained it to me in such a way that I understood the passion and commitment he had to the idea. I still wasn’t sure if it would work – I certainly didn’t understand all of the ‘technology’ stuff he was talking about, but I did manage to find him opportunities to meet people, see people, telling him it had to be a secret. I didn’t want to openly come between a father and a son.”

Caitlyn wondered where this was leading. She ran her finger over the smooth rim of the coffee cup, looking around Adriana’s sitting room.

“I saw a great deal of him that summer, and it was clear to me – I think it was clear to everyone else – that he fell in love with you. Yes, he had known you all of his life, but he described you to me the same way he spoke about his passion for his company. They were all intertwined for him.”

“Really?” Caitlyn said, her voice faint. A rush of memories came back to her.

“I saw you as well, and while you were never quite as romantic as he was on the subject, I don’t think I have seen two young people so much in love.”

“It was a wonderful summer,” Caitlyn agreed.

“Your grandfather worried that you might go in the same direction as your mother, even though he thought Noah was a much better choice for you than your father had been for your mother. I told him to trust you, that you weren’t your mother.”

Caitlyn looked down at the carpet.

“I hope I was right?” Adriana asked quietly.

“For the most part. We spent a night together, but nothing happened, at least not that. Noah wanted to, but I said no, that I wasn’t ready. We settled for something more innocent. We also fought that night. He told me he was going to tell his father he was going to drop out of college and head to California with his friends, to start up his company. Instead of being supportive, I told him he would regret disappointing his father. He thought I was being a snob, that I wouldn’t like him if he didn’t follow the tried and true path. I suppose you could say that killed the mood as much as anything.”

“But you didn’t go home that night?”

“No. I told my grandfather I was staying at a friend’s house, so I wound up going there, and then the next morning when I finally did sneak home, the police were waiting for me.”

Adriana was silent for a moment before saying, “I thought that might have been what happened. I saw the two of you at his funeral, but you weren’t together anymore. Something had been broken.”

“I pushed him away. I felt guilty. If only I hadn’t gone out of the house, if only I’d hadn’t been with Noah.” Caitlyn, her eyes wet with tears, turned to Adriana. “What could have been so bad as to make him kill himself?”

Adriana answered, her mouth set in a grim line, “My relationship with your grandfather was over by then because someone had threatened to tell Trip, my husband. That would have been a disaster. He was a large investor in the firm, and I could only imagine what he would have done if he found out. He would have tried to destroy the company at all costs, even to himself. So I ended it with your grandfather.”

Adriana wasn’t looking at Caitlyn, her eyes focused off in the distance, as if she too could reach and touch those times. “And then he killed himself. And there were the stories about the missing money. Maxwell took the blame for not being vigilant enough, promised it would never happen again, that he needed some more time. Some people were willing to give it to him. I wanted to destroy him because I thought he was blaming Luke for things, using him. I told my husband to pull his money out and watch the company go down. Trip refused, and I couldn’t, without explaining it to him, force him to do it. It survived but just barely.”

“Did my grandfather really steal the money? What did he do with it?” Caitlyn asked. The estate Lucas had left behind had been nothing extravagant. Just the house, and a small trust fund clearly in her own name. It had paid for college and graduate school. But of embezzled riches, there had been no sign. No expensive paintings, boats, houses or the like had been found.

“People didn’t want to believe it, but they took the suicide as a confirmation that he had. And Maxwell didn’t exactly say he hadn’t. Who wouldn’t believe it?”

“There’s more to it,” Caitlyn said and waited, thinking about the hints Peter Flynn had dropped.

“No,” Adriana disagreed. “There isn’t. Sometimes it just is what it is. Don’t drive yourself crazy looking for answers that aren’t there. Your grandfather expected you to get on with your life. And you should. Look to the future; think about what you want for yourself. Don’t worry about what’s right, or what other people think. Do what you want.”

Caitlyn came home restless, her mind spinning. She’d already had wine at Adriana’s, but she walked through the quiet house to the kitchen where she pulled a beer from the fridge. Straight from the bottle, she took several long sips before she decided she didn’t want anymore and poured it down the sink. Slipping out of her shoes, she padded back to the study barefoot.

She switched on the light in the drawing room, fumbling for the switch. The lamp cast a soft glow across the room. Her mother had changed this room the least, and it was meant to be a darker, cozy space. There was no sense in lighting a fire tonight. She only meant to look over a few things Sully had given her, and then it was time for bed.

Sully had insisted that she take her account statements, both the ones from the bank and the ones from the Randall Group. The woman admitted that she didn’t check everything all that carefully, only once a year, or when she thought she might need extra money. The luxury of the comfortably rich, Caitlyn thought. Mrs. Smith-Sullivan had gotten her money, but she thought that it was odd that the money hadn’t been transferred from the Randall Group the way it should. She was Tommy’s client, and technically Caitlyn shouldn’t be doing this. However, since the incident with Tony Biddle, she didn’t mind nosing around into Tommy’s business.

Caitlyn went to the answering machine. There was no new message light blinking, but she was expecting a call from Noah, so she checked anyway and was surprised when she heard a new message from him, telling her he needed to stay in California for a while. Odd, she thought, and wondered if she needed a new machine. Then she looked into the hallway, to the small table where she dropped her mail and her keys.

There was something wrong. There had been no mail in the mailbox today. But, she thought as she walked into the hall and looked down, there was unopened mail in the basket. Caitlyn looked up and around, catching herself in the mirror. Her face was pale, her eyes dark. Something in her tensed, and the blood thudded in her ears.

She went back into the study, looking at the desk. There were some papers on the blotter, correspondence from a lawyer concerning the house. They were out of order. Caitlyn swallowed and looked around. She felt foolish, but did it anyway, picking up an iron poker from the set of fire tools.

She walked up the stairs, moving quietly, avoiding the creaky last one, until she was on the landing. Looking in the bathroom first, she crept in, pulling aside the shower curtain in a quick jerk. Nobody was there, but the faucet was leaking a little. The drip-drip followed her as she went towards the master bedroom. That appeared empty as well, staring back at her in its solitude. She shut the door firmly and checked the room that had been her mother’s, also denuded, an air of emptiness in it.

It was in her own room that she was almost consumed by panic. The changes were so minute she thought, looking over her possessions, that you could barely tell things had been touched.

It was just that her drawers were not as neat as they had been; perhaps someone had looked in her old desk, hoping to find who knew what – perhaps old report cards? Everything was only just slightly mussed, nothing she could say for certain.

She went slowly down the hall towards the closed door. Now she turned the knob and entered her grandfather’s bedroom. A brilliant memory came back, sudden and sharp. Unfortunately, it was always the first one that came to mind. Her grandfather in the bed with Adriana, another man’s wife. She had opened the door, not knowing what those sounds meant, and seen more than she bargained for.

Caitlyn collected herself and stepped in. The room was cold, heated by a steam radiator that was kept off. Her breath hung in the air in front of her, and she left the door to the hallway open to allow the warmth and the light to pour in.

In truth, she had been a little worried about ghosts when she came back. Not real ones, but the ghosts of memory that would trail around her waking hours. Her mother’s transformation of the house had erased that fear, but here, where her mother’s hand had not touched, she felt most strongly the presence of her grandfather.

The large four-poster bed was as he had left it, the dark burled wood dressers, and the wide-planked floor covered by the small, rich area rugs. On his dressing table, the matched set of leather boxes that kept his watches and cuff links was starting to crack and peel. The bathroom off to the side was big and cold, old-fashioned with a claw-foot tub and small white floor tiles.

To everyone’s surprise, her grandfather had used his own gun to kill himself. The surprise was that Lucas Montgomery had even owned a pistol. It turned out he had several. That’s what they found afterwards. He had simply used one of the more modern ones. Caitlyn had overheard her mother talking. She knew there had been more than one; she just didn’t know what her mother had done with them.

Keeping them in Lucas’s bedroom made the most sense. Caitlyn looked around and decided to start with the closet. She opened the door, switched on the pull light and looked. Her mother had never cleaned out most of his clothes. There were still his dress shirts, piled on a hook, waiting to be taken to the cleaners. Everything, right down to his shoes, was still there.

Looking up, she saw that the top shelf was filled with boxes. Shoe boxes, plain brown cardboard boxes and a metal box, rusted a little at the edges. She reached for the small handle and found she could not reach it. Turning, she looked for help and found it in the form of a straight-backed chair in one corner. She pulled it over and stepped on the edges of the seat, so as not to fall through its cane seat. Caitlyn pulled the box down, knowing from its lightness that she would not find anything.

After carefully stepping off the chair, she took the box to the bed and opened it. It was not locked, as it should have been. There was no doubt that there should have been a gun in the box. The inside was fitted with a felt-covered mold, designed to hold the shape of some sort of gun. Caitlyn closed the box and sat on the bed to think. She didn’t know what this meant. It could mean nothing, that the box had been empty for a long time, or not. Someone had been in the house, that much she knew. Had the person been in here?

She looked around her grandfather’s room, trying to sense, to feel if anything had been disturbed. A cold draft seeped in from the window and chilled her nose and her fingers. She looked at the empty box and the closet. It would take a pretty knowledgeable thief to come to this house to search for a gun that might or might not be there, leaving everything else of value untouched. She went back to the closet and started her search, more methodical this time, going through all of the boxes, even the most unlikely shoes boxes.

It was pointless. The shoeboxes had contained an odd variety of things. Photos, letters, even a string collection. She found bullets, but no guns. She put the bullets aside on the bed, next to the empty gun case, and then turned her attention to the desk and the drawers. It was the same. She understood her grandfather better at the end of it, sorting through what he had left behind. Several watches, none presently working, a class ring, collar studs. But there was no sign of a collection of guns.

Caitlyn sat on the edge of the bed, looking at what she had collected. Bullets and not much else. She supposed that bullets without a gun, and vice versa, were not much danger to anyone. But she took them out of her grandfather’s room and closed, but did not lock, the door. She would leave it untouched as her mother wished, at least until she had spoken to her about it, but it was silly to keep only one part of the house closed up and shut against the passage of time where everywhere else her mother had so strenuously tried to erase the bad memories.

She hadn’t locked the door when she left his morning. She still couldn’t quite remember to do that.

Caitlyn went downstairs, turning on lights so that the whole house was ablaze on the bluff over the harbor. Nothing of value was missing, not the silver flatware, the TV, or any of the paintings or antiques that might possibly fetch something at auction.

No, there was nothing missing, Caitlyn thought, but her peace of mind. She locked all of the doors and sat on the couch in the study, poker close at hand, lights on, listening to the TV, waiting, until she fell asleep.