Remember Me (33 page)

“That's what I thought. I just wanted to make sure I wasn't imagining that.”

“Mrs. Nichols, do you ever get over losing someone you love?” Amy asked.

Menley knew Amy was thinking about her own mother. “No,” she said, “but you learn to be grateful that you had the person at all, even though it wasn't long enough. And to quote my own mother, she always told my brother and me that she'd rather have had twelve years with my father than seventy years with anyone else.”

She put an arm around Amy. “You'll always miss your mother the way I'll always miss Bobby, but we've both got to keep that thought in mind. I know I'm going to try.”

Even as she was rewarded by Amy's grateful smile, Menley was struck by the thought that both times she had awakened to the sound of the train whistle, Hannah had heard it too.

The calling, the train. What if she hadn't imagined it?

G
raham and Anne Carpenter spent most of Wednesday packing. At two o'clock, Graham saw the mail van go by and walked down to the mailbox.

When he took out the mail he glanced into the box and was surprised to see a small package in the far-back corner. It was wrapped in brown paper and tied with twine, so he knew it wasn't one of those soap samples that regularly made an appearance in the box.

The package was addressed to Anne, but there was no postage and no return address on it. Graham carried it up to the house and brought it to the kitchen, where Anne was talking to the housekeeper. When he told them about finding it, he saw a look of concern cross his wife's face.

“Do you want me to open it for you?” he asked.

Anne nodded.

He saw her expectant expression as he cut the twine. He wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was. There was something distinctly odd about the neatly lettered, tightly sealed package.

When he opened it, his eyes widened in shock. The fine deep green of the heirloom emerald ring gleamed through a plastic sandwich bag.

The housekeeper gasped, “Isn't that . . . ?”

Anne grabbed the bag and pulled out the ring, folding it in her hand. Her voice was shrill, on the verge of hysteria as she cried, “Graham, where did this come from? Who brought it here? Remember, I told you that emeralds always find their way home?”

N
at Coogan was in his car on the way to Orleans when he received a call at 3:15 from the district attorney's office. An assistant DA informed him that the emerald ring had been returned to the Carpenters'
house last night and that at exactly 10:00
P.M
. an elderly neighbor, Preston Crenshaw, had noticed a strange car slow up at the Carpenters' mailbox.

“We can't be sure that whoever was in the car left the ring, but it gives us something to go on,” the assistant DA told him. “Mr. Crenshaw's description of the vehicle he saw is pretty good. A dark green or black Plymouth, Massachusetts plates with a 7 and a 3 or 8 in the numbers. We're running a check.”

Plymouth, Nat thought. Dark green or black. Where had he seen one recently? Then he remembered. It had been in Fred Hendin's driveway, and then he had seen Fred and Tina in it after the inquest. “Tina Arcoli's boyfriend, Fred Hendin, drives a dark green Plymouth,” he said. “Run a check on his plates.”

He waited. The assistant DA came back on the phone, sounding triumphant. “Hendin's license plate number has both a 7 and a 3 in it. The boss says he wants you to go along when we pick him up for questioning.”

“Then let's meet at Hendin's house at five o'clock. I'm on my way to something that may turn out to be another lead.”

The aerial photographer, Walter Orr, had picked up his messages and returned Nat's call. Nat was to meet him in his office at four o'clock.

It's unraveling, Nat thought exultantly, snapping the phone back on the dashboard.

Ten minutes later he was turning off Route 6 onto the Orleans exit. Five minutes after that he was in Orr's office in the center of town.

*   *   *

Orr was about thirty, a brawny man who looked more like a dockworker than a photographer. He was in the process of making coffee. “Long day,” he told Nat. “I was doing a shoot in New London. Believe me, I was glad to get back here. That storm is going to
hit us in a couple of hours, and I wouldn't want to be flying in it.”

He held out a mug. “Coffee?”

Nat shook his head. “No thanks.” He took out the mangled aerial photo. “You took this?”

Orr studied it briefly. “Yes, I did. Who slashed it?”

“That's part of what we're investigating. I understand Elaine Atkins hired you to take it and that she has the negative.”

“That's right. She specifically wanted the negative and paid extra to get it.”

“All right, take a look at this print.” Nat unrolled the copy that Elaine had given him. “You see the difference?”

“Sure. The boat's been taken out. Who did that? Elaine?”

“That's what I'm told.”

“Well, it's hers to mess around with, I guess.”

“On the phone you told me that when you take aerial photos, the exact time and date is being registered on the film.”

“That's right.”

Nat pointed to the lower right-hand corner of the original photo. “This is marked Friday, 15 July, 3:30
P.M
.”

“And the year is above it.”

“I see that. The point is that this is the absolutely accurate time the photo was made. Is that right?”

“Absolutely.”

“I need to get a blowup of that missing boat. How many photos did you shoot, and is there another one that's similar?”

Orr hesitated. “Listen, is this important to you? You think the boat is carrying drugs or something?”

“It might be important to a lot of people,” Nat said.

Orr pressed his lips together. “I know you're not here because you want to admire my photography.
Just between us, I did sell Elaine the whole roll of film, but I made a duplicate negative of this shot for myself. I wouldn't have sold it to anyone else, but it's damn good photography. I wanted it as a sample of my work.”

“That's very good news,” Nat said. “Can you make another print, fast?”

“Sure. Exactly like this one?”

“Yes, exactly like the original, but it's really the boat I'm interested in.”

“What do you want to know about it?”

“Everything that your skills can reveal to me.” He scribbled the number of his cellular phone on the back of his card and handed it to Orr. “As soon as possible. I'll be waiting for your call.”

F
red Hendin was picked up shortly after five o'clock and brought to the district attorney's office in the courthouse. Quietly and courteously, he answered the questions that were flung at him. No, he had never met Vivian Carpenter. No, he had never met Scott Covey either, although he had seen him hanging around the Daniel Webster Inn last year. Yes, he was engaged to Tina Arcoli.

The ring? He had no idea what they were talking
about. He hadn't been in Osterville last night. He had been out with Tina and then gone directly home to bed.

Yes, at the inquest he had heard a lot of talk about a missing ring. The
Cape Cod Times
yesterday gave a description of it. Nearly a quarter of a million dollars was a lot of ring. Whoever gave it back was certainly honest.

“I've got to get out of here,” Fred told his interrogators. “I'm driving my fiancée to Logan Airport. She's got a flight to Denver at nine o'clock.”

“I think Tina's going to miss her flight, Fred,” Nat said. “We're going to bring her in now.”

He watched as the telltale flush appeared on Fred's neck and worked its way up to his face. They were getting to him.

“Tina wants to visit her brother and his family,” Fred said angrily. “All this business has upset her.”

“It's upset a lot of people,” Nat said mildly. “If you have sympathy for anyone, I suggest you start with the Carpenters. Don't waste it on Tina.”

*   *   *

Nat drove with Bill Walsh, an investigator from the district attorney's office, to Tina's home. At first she refused to let them in, then finally opened the door.

They found her surrounded by luggage. The living room obviously had been stripped of personal belongings. She had no intention of coming back, Nat thought.

“I have no time for you,” Tina snapped. “I have to make a plane. I'm waiting for Fred.”

“Fred's at the district attorney's office, Tina,” Nat told her. “We have to talk to him, and it's very important that we talk to you as well. If everything gets
straightened out quickly, you can still make your plane.”

Tina looked startled. “I have no idea why you want to talk to Fred or me. Let's get this over with fast.”

M
ently walked Amy to the door. “Dad and I are going to Elaine's for dinner tonight,” she said. “We're supposed to talk out my relationship with her.”

“You mean to try to get it on a more even keel?” Menley asked.

“Last night she said something about not walking into such a hostile situation.” Amy shrugged. “I'm going to tell her that I'll be in college in a couple of weeks and if there's a problem about my being around on school breaks, then I'll stay away. My grandmother still lives in Pennsylvania; she'll be glad to have me. At least then I won't have to watch Elaine make a jerk out of Dad.”

“Sometimes it gets worse before it gets better,” Menley said, opening the door. A gust of wind swept through the room. “I'm glad Adam isn't flying today,” she commented.

After Amy left, Menley fed Hannah, bathed her, then watched the six o'clock news from Boston with the baby in her lap. At quarter past six a bulletin ran
across the bottom of the screen. The storm would break at about seven, and a particular warning was issued to residents of the Cape and area islands.

“We'd better get the candles and flashlights out,” Menley told Hannah. The sky was completely overcast. The water, dark gray and angry, was now crashing on the shore. The first drops of rain began to beat against the window. She went from room to room, turning on lights.

Hannah began to fuss, and Menley settled her in her crib, then came back downstairs. Outside the wind was increasing in velocity, and she heard the faint call that it made as it whooshed around the house:
Remmmmbaaaa . . .

Adam phoned at quarter of seven.

“Men, the dinner I was staying for got canceled at the last minute. I grabbed a cab to the airport to make the direct flight. We were on the runway when they got word Barnstable Airport is closed. I'll take the shuttle to Boston and rent a car there. With luck I'll be home between nine-thirty and ten.”

Adam was coming home tonight! “That's terrific,” Menley said. “We'll weather the storm together.”

“Always.”

“You haven't had a chance to eat, have you?” she asked.

“No.”

“I'll have dinner waiting. It probably will be by candlelight, and not just for effect.”

“Men . . .” He hesitated.

“Don't be afraid to ask if I'm all right. Yes, I am.”

“Did you watch the tape of Bobby?”

“Twice. Amy watched it with me the second time. Adam, remember how Bobby had just started to say ‘Mom-me'?”

“Yes I do. Why, Men?”

“I'm not sure.”

“Men, they're boarding. I'll have to go. See you in a little while.”

Adam hung up and ran for the departure gate. He had watched the tape that he found in the library of the apartment. “Mom-
me
.” It almost sounded as though Bobby were calling Menley to him. Oh Christ, Adam thought, why didn't I get back to the Cape before the airport closed.

N
at and Bill Walsh, the investigator, carried Tina's bags into one of the conference rooms. She sat down across from them at the table and pointedly looked at her watch. “If I'm not out of here in half an hour I'll miss my plane,” she said. “Where's Fred?”

“He's down the hall,” Nat said.

“What's he done?”

“Maybe nothing except be a delivery man. Tina, let's talk about Vivian Carpenter's missing emerald ring.”

Her eyes narrowed. “What about it?”

“Then you know about it?”

“Anyone who reads the papers knows about it, to say nothing of all the talk at the inquest.”

“Then you know it's not the kind of ring that would be mistaken for another one. Here, let me read the
description of it from the insurance company.” Nat picked up a sheet of paper. “ ‘Colombian emerald, five-and-a-half carats, fine deep green with no visible inclusions, two fine emerald-cut diamonds, one-and-a-half carats each, on either side, mounted in platinum, value a quarter of a million dollars.' “

He laid down the paper and shook his head. “You can understand why the Carpenters wanted it back, can't you?”

“I don't know what you're talking about.”

“A lot of people seem to think that ring was wrenched off Vivian's finger after she died, Tina. If true, that could get whoever has it now in big, big trouble. Why don't you think about that? Mr. Walsh will stay with you. I'm going in to talk to Fred.”

He exchanged a glance with the investigator. Now Walsh could take the fatherly approach with Tina and, most important, he wouldn't leave her alone to go through her luggage. Nat had not missed the quick, nervous dart of Tina's eyes when he mentioned the ring. She thinks it's in her suitcase, he thought.

*   *   *

Fred Hendin looked up when Nat came into the room. “Is Tina here?” he asked quietly.