Dead to Begin With

Vicky nodded. Being alone had never bothered her, but then she had been able to fill her time with interesting things to do. Gwenda Gill had probably felt like she got no chances in Glen Cove and nobody really cared for her situation. With everything Vicky learned about her predecessor, she felt more sorry for her bad luck in life. “I understand this ex-husband of hers, Mortimer, keeps predator birds?”

“Yeah, he is a falconer, I mean, a professional one. He gives shows and all, performs at weddings where his owls fly in the rings. He still has to do odd jobs to make ends meet, but the birds are his life. Nice guy, down to earth and pretty solid. But Gwenda was never happy with him. Believed he could do better, make more money. At least that’s what she always said.”

Vicky nodded thoughtfully. She wanted a full picture of Mortimer Gill’s character before she hired him to work for her. “I heard Mortimer was behind some anonymous letters that got published in the Gazette accusing Gwenda of doctoring some of her more expensive beauty products? I mean, using cheap stuff and passing it off as brand material?”

“That was a big row, yeah. But nobody knew for sure if Mortimer was behind it. It could have been some unsatisfied customer, not getting rid of her wrinkles?”

Marge grinned. “Look, I can understand that Gwenda felt like everybody sided with Mortimer against her. But Mortimer always said he had nothing to do with those letters. I was inclined to believe him. He seemed to keep caring for her. Even after they parted ways.”

Vicky nodded thoughtfully. Marge’s assessment of Mortimer Gill was different from what she had concluded herself. More positive. Still, Michael had called Mortimer a scam artist and referred to him selling spare car parts at reduced prices when he had been working at this garage. It suggested Mortimer had been hustling from the first job he had ever held. Vicky wasn’t quite sure yet if she wanted to hire him to work on her fireplace or not.

Of course it would be for a few hours only, and the store was still empty. Perhaps it could do no harm?

“You know, falconry is a really British thing,” Marge mused. “At least people associate it with the Middle Ages, the royal courts and all. Big hunting parties, glamour. Maybe we could involve Mortimer in the store opening. Have his birds fly in the key?”

“Gwenda might interpret it as some extra slap on the wrist.” Vicky pursed her lips. “She still lives over my head, you know, and she’s already telling everybody I’ll never make it work.”

“All the more reason to get a spectacular opening for the store. I know Mortimer pretty well, as my husband takes care of his birds occasionally. His dad used to have predator birds too, so my husband grew up with them. Our boys are in love with owls. Go along to Mortimer’s every chance they get. We could ask Mortimer to do it, as a return favor. Just a phone call tonight…”

“Uh, great.” For a moment Vicky felt like she was getting way ahead of herself here, having barely dealt with the store renovations. To start planning the grand opening now seemed a little premature.

But she needed friends in town, people who would be committed to the store and its success. So it was in her own interest to accept this sudden offer.

She only hoped that Gwenda Gill wouldn’t get too steamed about it and think up a way to sabotage them.

Chapter Five

Marge held open the diner’s door for her. “After you.” Following Vicky, she inhaled deeply. “Cinnamon rolls, fresh from the oven. You’ve got to try some. They’re the best. You find a seat, I’ll order. Coffee?”

“Make it a large one.”

“Great idea. I’ll join you. Rolls are on me.”

As Marge made her way to the counter, Vicky looked around for two empty seats. The place was buzzing with local people who grabbed a quick coffee here and tourists who wanted a bite before they took a boat out. Those seated by the window were looking out into the street. It struck Vicky for the first time how much you could see from here. Had the outsider who had abducted Celine at the time spent hours here keeping an eye on everything? Determining how town life worked so he knew how to strike without being spotted?

“Here.” Marge appeared beside her carrying two steaming mugs in one hand, a plate filled with cinnamon rolls in the other. “How about that booth over there?”

“Yes, fine.” Vicky flushed realizing how she had been thinking about Celine’s disappearance again. A crime, or at least something that had looked a lot like a crime. And one that had never been solved. Some said that old Sheriff Perkins hadn’t tried hard enough because he had known who was involved. Someone influential in town, whom he did not dare touch.

Vicky shivered. She didn’t want to believe that was true. Glen Cove was such a friendly little place where people only wanted the best for each other. It was impossible someone would have lived among them for over twenty years, hiding such a dark secret. If Celine had met a sad fate, it had been the work of an outsider. A lunatic. The mystery would probably remain unsolved forever.

Vicky forced her thoughts away from it and followed Marge. Just as Marge wanted to deposit her mugs and plate on the table of the empty booth, two men came up from the other side claiming the same spot. One of them was in uniform. As he pulled off his hat and grinned, Vicky recognized him at once. Her mouth fell open. “Cash?” she said, “Cash Rowland?”

The man looked at her and seemed to be equally surprised. “Vicky! I had heard you were back in town. I planned on stopping by your project one of these days, to see for myself what you’re up to.”

He looked her over with an appreciative grunt. “You look good.”

So did he. A little more weight round the waist maybe, but as he was tall and athletic, it did no harm. A head of full blond hair, wild curls like he had always had. She bet he still drove a conspicuous car when he was off duty. One that would get him noticed wherever he went. Cash had always liked to get noticed.

Cash Rowland had been one of her best friends while she had grown up, the center of their group of friends, always good for a laugh, always in for a crazy idea. He was the one who had taken them all to Boston in his dad’s old station wagon to see some baseball game. She couldn’t recall what it had been, but it had been important to the guys. The girls had just tagged along because with Cash around you could always have fun.

His father had made it big inventing some small part that made machinery on ships work better. One invention, a lifetime of proceeds. The family had lived in a big old house on the outskirts of the town. They didn’t have the clout of background or town history, but they did have money. For a lot of people that was enough. Cash Rowland had gotten away with anything, including speeding, camping on public grounds…

It was odd to see him in a uniform all of a sudden and realize he was now the law around here. The Rowlands had always been a law unto themselves.

Was that why Claire had called the new sheriff incompetent? She had never liked Cash Rowland any better than she had liked Michael Danning. All bad boys. All trouble.

“Why don’t we sit down here together?” Marge suggested. “There’s plenty of room.” She cast curious looks from Cash to Vicky and back. Vicky wondered if there was something about the way Cash stared at her that had made Marge perk up.

Cash’s companion excused himself saying he’d call Cash later and walked off. He wore cowboy boots with gleaming silver toe pieces and spurs that clinked as he walked.

“Dear me,” Marge said. “I hope we didn’t scare him off.”

“No, he just wanted to talk about something that uh…” Cash fidgeted with his hat “…can wait.”

“OK.” Vicky sat down opposite Cash and cradled her coffee mug in her hands. She breathed the invigorating scent, then asked, “You’re sheriff now? I had no idea you aimed for a career in law enforcement.”

When they had discussed what they all wanted to be, Cash had always said pilot, or race-car driver.

Or stuntman.

Something risky that would take him places.

But they had all known he would probably just take over his father’s business. There was a big difference between your dreams and the way life worked out.

Cash shrugged. “It all happened so fast, you know. Perkins was getting re-elected time after time. People said he should get some competition. I put myself up to see how the town would respond to my candidacy. Kind of a joke really.”

It was so like Cash Rowland to run for sheriff, by way of a joke. He had never taken anything too seriously. She supposed most of Glen Cove had known that too, so it was surprising the townspeople had voted for Cash anyway. Maybe they had all just been longing for a change? Any change?

“Don’t scowl like that.” Cash took a cinnamon roll and bit into it with a grunt of appreciation. “I know it sounds weird, but people put their faith in me by electing me and I don’t intend to let them down. I already solved a cattle theft last week.”

Marge Fisher leaned back and laughed. “You call that solving?”

Turning to Vicky, she explained, “It turned out the cows that had been reported stolen had simply found a break in the fence and had walked off onto somebody else’s land. Once the neighbor reported major damage to his corn, the case was easily solved.”

Cash looked offended. “That’s what you say. I had to determine the amount of damages the owner of the cows had to pay to the guy whose corn got trampled. He threatened to take the thing to court, which would of course have been bad for both of them. I reached a settlement by applying all my tact and finesse.”

Vicky suppressed a burst of laughter. Cash had never been known for anything like tact, although he had always had a way with words to convince people of things they really didn’t want to do. She had figured he’d become a politician and talk himself into the senate or something. But of course he could have been thinking, like her, about aging parents, and the advantages of living close to them. She had understood from Mom that Cash’s parents still lived in that enormous house. Maybe Cash wanted to keep an eye on them?

Vicky asked Cash about some of their old friends who were still in town. It seemed most of the girls had left. Had their parents felt uncomfortable after the disappearance case, thinking it could have been a madman who might strike again?

Vicky played with the long spoon from her coffee mug, looking for the right words to approach the topic. “How about Celine’s family? Her twin sister? What was her name? Diane?” She knew full well where she was of course, but she wanted to get Cash talking.

Cash sat up like he’d been stung. His hands on the table clenched into fists. “Why do you ask about her?”

“Oh, I don’t know. She was all over the front page of the Gazette the other day.” The sudden tension made Vicky wish she had left it alone. Still she was sort of curious why Cash reacted like that. “She seems to think the disappearance case can be reopened?”

“Just talk.” Cash’s expression was tight and dismissive.

Vicky scanned Cash’s expression. “So there are no new facts? Something to throw light on what happened to Celine back then?”

Cash exhaled. “Look, Diane should have known better.” He scooted to the edge of his seat and gestured with his hands as if to underline his point. “She moved away from here after the disappearance, remember? Not everybody understood her decision to leave. Some thought it was terrible for her parents. Others even said she knew more. Had covered for Celine’s secret meetings with that unknown man.”

“So Diane knew there was a man involved?” Vicky leaned forward.

“That’s what they said.” Cash made a gesture with both hands. “But Diane left, graduated, met her future husband and got married. She lived abroad for all this time, raising three kids, who are all in an international school now. Then the marriage started to show cracks, so she went to a shrink. I guess she only wanted to hear that she had empty nest syndrome, and should get a hobby or something. But the guy told her that it all goes back to her sister’s disappearance. To unsolved business that burdens her life.”

It was obvious that it was all psychobabble to Cash.

“Her doctor,” Cash continued grimly, “told her she has to find some way to end the thing, for herself, in her mind.” He tapped his temple. “So instead of taking a nice vacation or something, and thinking it over for herself, Diane decided she has to show up here again. She’s back for the summer, intending to talk to all the people involved back then, in the investigation. Police officers, witnesses, friends. She’s walking around with a tape recorder, actually taping conversations. She says it’s just for closure and she’ll do nothing with the material she collects. Like write a book about it or something? But that big spread in the paper tells me a different story. She does want something.”

Vicky watched the tension flicker over Cash’s features. Knowing he was sheriff now, responsible for peace and quiet in Glen Cove, she could understand his resentment.

“Nobody can forbid her to do it of course,” Cash continued, “and I’ve heard there are actually people who enjoy talking about it, coming up with bizarre details they never shared with the police back then. To them it’s just something interesting, out of the ordinary. But…among other people there’s a feeling that it might do a lot of damage If not to Diane, then to the others who were intimately involved.”

Vicky exhaled slowly. She saw the risks as well. Had Michael and Diane understood the full impact of what they were doing? Also to each other? For Michael, seeing Diane, who was Celine’s mirror image, might bring back a whole lot of unwanted memories. Frustration and anger he might have believed to be long forgotten.

She said slowly, “Diane must believe she has something to go on. Else she would not have risked this.”

Cash nodded. “Well, you’d start thinking that. More than one person asked me recently if there were old police files on Celine’s disappearance they could see. I told them they had to talk to Perkins about it. He took some old stuff with him, when he retired, to keep as his private archive in his barn. Not sure if they did turn to Perkins, and if they did, how Perkins responded to it. Knowing him, he won’t want any interference with his old files.”

“And who wanted to see those old police files?” Vicky asked. Her heart was pounding so fast she could barely breathe.

“Michael Danning of course,” Cash said. “And Mortimer Gill. Gwenda’s ex-husband.”

Chapter Six

Cash left Vicky and Marge soon after saying he had things to do. Marge checked her watch and exclaimed she had to run to pick up her kids from a friend. “Call me tonight to discuss things some more,” she called as she rushed off.

Vicky waved in agreement and finished the last draft of her now cold coffee. Her fingers still sticky from the cinnamon rolls, she returned to the store and spent the afternoon on her knees working on the floorboards. Smoothing, removing nails, filling up cracks and rubbing out stains. It started to look half decent, but her back felt broken and her stomach protested that a banana on the go did not really count as lunch. The fridge at her cottage, however, was half empty, and Vicky concluded her mother’s place was the better bet for a hot meal.

At Claire’s she found some great-looking lasagna and put it in the oven, set the table and selected some wine, then took Mr. Pug and Coco for a walk on the beach to ease her sore muscles. That was something she had missed in London: the wide desertedness of the beach, the sounds of the ocean, the scent of the salty air. There had been the Thames of course to walk along. At night with lights everywhere it had been very idyllic. But it hadn’t been the sea. Having been born in a coastal town, Vicky needed her regular encounters with the sea. Especially when it was incoming tide and the waves rolled to the sand with huge foaming white heads, crashing and breaking.

Claire always said not to take Mr. Pug and Coco to the beach. According to her, their fur got dirty from the sand in the air and they couldn’t walk up all those steps leading to the boulevard.

But Vicky believed the dogs enjoyed the beach as much as she did and took them anyway. She clambered down via a steep sandy path close to Claire’s home, carrying Mr. Pug, who was a bit fussy. Coco just ran down ahead of her, barking like crazy.

There were light clouds in the air but nothing suggesting bad weather, and Vicky unbuttoned her coat to let the wind play with it. Walking with the strong gusts in her face, picking up some shells here and there, she could forget about the headaches of all the repairs that still had to be done and focus on what she was happy and grateful about. Having leased the store, having connected with Marge. She had some great ideas for the store, and her love of all things British caused an instant connection between them. Maybe Claire’s idea of hiring Marge as an assistant had been a great suggestion after all. Then Vicky need not always be in the store herself. She had to talk it over during the call later tonight.

Vicky spread her arms and inhaled the salty air with relish. Things were coming together nicely.

Except for one thing.

A frown formed over her eyes. She really had to call Mortimer Gill and ask if he could start on the fireplace early tomorrow morning. Now that Marge had suggested involving him in the grand opening it made sense to use him as a mason as well. If Mortimer could really restore the old fireplace in a single day as he had claimed, his price for the job was not bad, and she could always squeeze him to give a small discount. Like five percent?

But something about the man still bugged her.

Mortimer’s interest in those old police files on Celine’s disappearance.

What could he possibly want with those? As far as Vicky could recall, Mortimer hadn’t been involved back then. Not as a witness or as a suspect. Why would he suddenly feel the need to look into it? Had Diane’s reappearance in town convinced him there was something to be found? For gain?

Michael’s mention of Mortimer’s little business in spare car parts suggested that already as a teen he had figured out how to make easy money. His current tendency to overcharge underlined he was still the ‘in for a quick score’ type.

What if Mortimer Gill intended to find some bomb in the old police reports that he could then drop on Glen Cove?

Once the lid was lifted, nobody knew what would come out. Vicky had lived in small towns long enough to know how rumors could get out of control, even out of the control of the one who had started it all. Like wildfire, they consumed everything in their way.

Loud barking tore Vicky from her worried contemplation. A couple of yards ahead of her Mr. Pug was trying to defend Coco from a much bigger dog who nuzzled her so wildly she almost fell over.

“Hey! Stop that!” Vicky broke into a run. Coco was terrified of larger dogs especially if they stood way over her. If she got hurt, Mom would never forgive her!

“Hey! You big lump!” Vicky ran up to the dogs and grabbed the German shepherd by his collar to drag him away. The dog looked up at her with a sort of surprise in his friendly face. He wagged his big bushy tail and even wriggled his head round to lick her hand.

“OK,” Vicky panted, “so you’re a good boy. And you only meant to say hello. But don’t fall all over Coco. She’s way too small to be your playmate.”

Not to mention what flying sand would do to her fur. Coco didn’t like to be bathed and last time Claire and Vicky had tried to coax the little princess into the tub, it had taken them an hour to clean up all the water and soap in the bathroom and change their own soiled clothes. It was surprising how strong a small dog could be.

“Excuse me, but that’s my dog.” The voice was cool and a bit haughty.

Vicky turned to the woman who wore an expensive sweatshirt over cargo pants. Her long blond hair fluttered loose on the breeze. Vicky held her breath. Even after so many years the likeness was stunning. Almost eerie.

“Celine,” she said, then could have kicked herself. “I mean, Diane. Ms. Dobbs. Or did you take your husband’s name?”

She realized she was starting to ramble and released the German shepherd, who ran off to snap at the waves. Coco pushed herself against Vicky’s leg, while Mr. Pug barked again as if he wanted to show he had driven the bigger dog away.

“Sorry,” Vicky said quickly, forcing a smile. “I believed for a moment your dog was attacking mine. That is, my mother’s dogs: Mr. Pug and Coco.”

In her experience dog owners usually thawed when they could discuss their pets. But Diane’s expression stayed cool and aloof. “My dog may look fierce, but he is well trained. Actually he’s a professional guard dog. I bring him on walks for protection.”

Vicky’s mouth fell open. “Have there been incidents lately?”

“I don’t intend to take any risks. I’m used to big cities; I guess it rubs off. You just don’t feel safe anywhere anymore.” Diane shivered a moment and rubbed her arms.

Vicky felt the need to say something reassuring, but was painfully reminded of Diane’s trauma in this place. Right here in Glen Cove her sister had vanished without a trace. It was hard to convince her it was a nice innocent little place.

Vicky took a deep breath. “I’m sorry that I called you Celine. But the…”

“Likeness is so striking.” Diane laughed bitterly. “That’s part of the reason why I left Glen Cove right after Celine…” She blinked a moment. “I just didn’t want to be compared to her anymore. It had always been fun to be twins, to be mixed up, even take each other’s place at times. But then it was no fun anymore. All the questions about how I was coping, how I felt. How did they think I felt? I had just lost half of me.”

Vicky held the woman’s gaze. Earlier she had looked at the newspaper photograph sort of trying to see the reasons for Diane’s return and now that she was face-to-face with her, she tried even harder. What did the look in those eyes tell her?

Diane swallowed. “I had that scholarship waiting for me so it was relatively easy to get away. I guess I felt relieved. It may sound terrible because I should have supported my parents, but…I was so tired of talking about Celine. Of waiting by the phone. The police told us that in a case of kidnapping the first twenty-four hours are crucial. If a person isn’t recovered by then, or comes back of his own accord, they are usually already…”

Vicky sucked in her breath. “I can’t imagine the police would say something like that.”

Diane straightened up. “Not the local police, no. They were so positive about a good outcome. A friend of my father’s told us the truth. Dad tried all kinds of friends for help, but…nobody could bring back Celine.”

The wind whipped strands of hair into Diane’s face, and she brushed them away impatiently. “I couldn’t stand the insecurity of waiting anymore. Or having to repeat my mother’s motto that there was still hope. To me hope diminished with every day that passed. I needed to work on my own life.”

“I understand.” Vicky waited a moment. It would be tactless to point out that Diane had left when everybody wanted to talk about Celine, and had come back when nobody wanted that anymore.

Diane said, “It didn’t really surprise me when my psychiatrist told me all of my problems were a consequence of my past. Of Celine’s disappearance. I had always known. Deep inside.”

She surveyed Vicky thoughtfully. “I know you’re Vicky Simmons, who also lived here when it happened. I think you knew Celine, although you never took classes with her, right? I’ve looked at old school pictures trying to remember all the names and then search for people online. I was curious what became of them all. Not everybody is still living here. Or living here again.”