Competition Can Be Murder (11 page)

I tried to visualize DeNiro’s soft voice sounding gruff. It didn’t give me much to go on.

“We better call Elizabeth and Edward,” Sarah said. “They’ll be worried sick.”

“They’ll be asleep,” Robert said. “It’s going on eleven.”

“True, they don’t know anything’s happened yet.” I wasn’t sure the best way to handle this.

Sarah straightened in her chair. “If my child were missing, I’d want to know it immediately. Elizabeth will be very angry if she learns this hours after the fact.”

I nodded and Drake handed her the phone.

After what must have been at least five or six rings, someone picked up. “Edward,” Sarah began, “I’m afraid . . .” Her voice broke and a sob escaped.

“I’d better—” Robert snatched up the receiver. “Edward. Well, not good, I’m afraid. Richie’s missing.”

I noticed that he took the more gentle way of saying it.

“No, there’s been a call. We just learned of it. No, they said
no
police.”

I could hear a demanding voice coming through the phone.

“Look, no sense in driving through the night. Take the first train in the morning. Someone will pick you up.” He listened for a minute. “All right, then, the airport. Seven-thirty? Hold a second.” He put his hand over the mouthpiece and turned to Drake. “Could you meet their plane and fly them out here in your helicopter, by chance?”

“I’ll have to rearrange some things, but yes. Tell him one of us will be there.”

Robert turned back to his call and Drake and I hastily conferred about our flight schedule for the next morning.

“Here’s what we’ll do,” Drake said, the minute Robert clicked off the call. “I have to meet some people out on one of the rigs early. So Charlie will take the JetRanger and meet Edward’s flight. She can have them here within five minutes.”

“Tonight, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to look through Richie’s bedroom. See if I can spot anything that would give us any ideas.”

Robert and Sarah both looked relieved that someone was taking charge.

I set my cup and saucer on the tray. “Earlier today, Sarah, you said the boys were going out tonight. Do you know where?”

Her smooth brow wrinkled in thought. “A club in Inverness. I can’t remember if they told me the name of it. Surely they did, but I can’t think of it.”

She turned to Robert, looking helplessly at him. He shrugged. “Don’t know as they ever mentioned it me,” he said. “Then again, I’ve been in Edinburgh the past couple of days. Didn’t keep up with the boys much.”

“There is a girl Richie’s been seeing in Inverness,” Sarah said. “Janie . . . Janie something . . . Oh, rats, why can’t I remember it.” She looked ready to cry.

“Don’t worry about it for now,” I said. “Maybe I’ll come across it in his room. Show me the way?”

Robert stepped forward.

“I still think this is a police matter,” I said.

They both flinched.

“Please consider it.” I tried for a gentler tone. “I feel very inadequate here. I might overlook something important.”

“For now, Charlie, this is what we should do. We should find out what their demands are and try to get Richie back ourselves.” The firmness in Robert’s voice left no room for argument. I followed him up the stairs.

Richie’s bedroom looked like just about any other teen’s room I could imagine—if that kid lived in a castle. Beneath the scatter of dirty clothing and rock music magazines was a room with high ceilings, elaborate crown moldings, a fireplace, and an oriental carpet that must be priceless. The décor was clearly guest-room—twin beds with flowered spreads (now puddled haphazardly, half on and half off), good antiques, and filmy drapes. A third bed had been set up and things shuffled a bit to accommodate the three boys. My guess was that Richie had no permanently assigned bedroom here, just chose one whenever he came to visit the grandparents.

I picked through the visible clutter, not finding anything notable, then delved under the mattresses and into the bedding. A baggie of marijuana in the pillow case of the third bed probably meant that one of the visitors had brought the stash for all of them. My guess would be Alasdair. He’d seemed the more defensive toward me earlier, but you never knew.

A feminine dressing table with all the decorative items shoved to one side contained an assortment of boy-clutter. A Walkman CD player, stacks of music CDs by heavy metal groups, a car magazine, and a handful of pocket junk—coins, a shiny rock, some lint, and a wrapped condom. This last lay covered by the magazine, not readily apparent had Grandma peeked into the room.

Jammed into the pages of the magazine, an envelope peeked out. I pulled it free. There was nothing inside but the envelope itself was interesting. The paper was wispy lavender, scented with some cloying perfume, addressed to Richie at school. The return address was from Janie Grahame, with an Inverness address. We now knew where to find the mysterious Janie.

I kept the envelope and turned my attention back to the rest of the room. At the foot of the temporary bed lay a large green duffle bag, the floppy kind you see traveling kids wrestling with in airports. Its contents revealed nothing more than wadded clothing with a dirt-caked pair of boots in the midst. A large backpack stood propped against a delicate inlaid table. I pulled it over to one of the beds and went through it, too, with about the same results. I couldn’t put my finger on it but something was out of place.

I wondered where the two other boys were right now. Had their families also received ransom calls? Were they witness to Richie’s abduction and talking to the police now? The questions just kept coming.

I scanned the room one more time, lifted bed skirts to look under. The room had no closet, and the large armoire was completely empty. The lavender envelope crinkled in my hand. How deeply was Richie involved with this girl? Did Janie Grahame have something to do with this?

“Sorry to disturb, Charlie.”

I must have jumped because Robert apologized a second time.

“It’s okay. Sorry I’ve been taking so long.”

“Just wanted to let you know that Sarah remembered that girl’s name. Janie Grahame, it is.”

“I just discovered that,” I said. I showed him the envelope.

“Ah, and an address too. You
are
a fine detective.” He managed a smile.

“When the boys arrived, did they each have their own bags?”

“Hmm . . . I assume so.” His eyes darted around the room, puzzled.

“I’m only finding two in here.”

“Ah, well, I remember Sarah saying last week that the boys were taking an overnight jaunt to see another friend in Fort Augustus. That’s at the tip end of Loch Ness. Probably stuffed a few things into someone’s bag and took it.”

“But they would have brought it back.”

“Probably still in the boot. Boys never bring things in and put them away.” He shrugged.

That was probably true. “Did anyone remember the name of the club where the boys went tonight?”

“Afraid not.”

“I think we should call Janie’s family and see if they know. Shall we see if there’s a phone listing for them?”

We trooped back down to the drawing room, where Sarah paced and Drake concealed a yawn. I patted him on the shoulder. “One more thing tonight, and then we’ll get you to bed.”

“Oh, yes, certainly,” Sarah said. “You’ve both got to fly in the morning and we’re keeping you up awfully late.”

“You wouldn’t happen to know a phone number for Janie Grahame, would you?” I showed Sarah the envelope I’d found.

“No, but let’s check the directory.” She headed toward the library and came back in a couple of minutes. “Here, let’s see . . .”

Robert stood by with the phone in hand. He punched the numbers as she read them out. I jotted them on the back of the lavender envelope as well.

Again, he waited as the ringing telephone woke up another sleeping family. Finally, someone picked up. “Hello, is that Mr. Grahame? Uh, Hugh Grahame?” He introduced himself and explained that we were trying to learn Richie’s whereabouts earlier this evening.

“Did your daughter go out with Richie last night?” Robert asked. “Is it possible to bring her to the phone? We’ve got an American private detective on the case .. .”

Oh, god.

“. . . and she’d like to ask Janie some questions.”

There seemed to be a bit of arguing back and forth, followed by a five-minute wait while Robert held the phone. “He’s going to get her,” he stage-whispered to the room.

“Ah! Janie, dear, did your father tell you, this is Richie’s grandfather calling?” He nodded twice. “I’m going to put a lady on to talk to you.”

“Janie, hi. My name’s Charlie. We need to find Richie, and no one remembers the name of that club he and his friends were going to tonight. Can you help me?”

A teen girl voice came through, fuzzy and nasal sounding. “Em . . . Richie? It’s about Richie?”

“Yes, Janie. Did you go out with him to a club tonight?”

“Uh, no. I didn’t go out tonight.” I thought I heard her rubbing a hand over her face. “I think Richie and some friends were going out. Two guys from his school.”

“Yes, that would be right. Lewis and Alasdair are their names.”

“Yes, I think so.” Her voice was slowly becoming more alert.

“So, do you know what club they went to?”

“Club? It could’ve been Mike’s. We go there sometimes.” She sounded genuinely confused.

“Mike’s.” I said. Sarah shook her head, mouthing
I don’t think so
.

“Any others?” I asked.

“The Pelican. I know he likes that one.”

Again, I repeated the name aloud. Sarah shrugged.

“More?” I said to Janie.

“Waldo Green’s. We go there a lot.”

“Waldo Green’s?” Sarah brightened a bit as I said it.

“Janie, I’ll let you get back to sleep now,” I said. “Please call one of us if you hear anything from Richie. We’re all pretty worried.” I gave the phone numbers to our cottage and the Dunbars. She mumbled a sleepy goodnight and I wondered whether she’d remember the conversation at all by morning.

“Do you think any of these places would be open right now?” I asked, handing the phone back to Robert.

“Doubt it. They’re all teen clubs, underage crowd, no liquor. Closed before midnight, most of ’em.” His eyes were weary. “You’ve done what you can for now. Go get some rest and be ready to get my daughter at the airport in the morning, eh.”

Drake rose from the overstuffed chair where he’d become way too comfortable.

“You’re right, Robert. I better get this guy to bed or he won’t be fit to fly out to that rig in the morning.”

Despite the fact that I was worried about Richie and wondered why the two other boys hadn’t returned, I fell asleep the minute my head hit the pillow. The alarm rang at five-thirty and Drake dragged himself from the warmth of the bed, but I rolled over for another half-hour. By the time he’d finished showering I’d made myself sit up.

We opted to take two cars to the airport, since there was no way of knowing where either of us would be by the end of this day. I saw Drake off on his flight about seven then I radioed Inverness tower to be sure there wouldn’t be any problem with my landing the JetRanger next to the British Air 767 after it came in at gate four. The controller seemed hesitant about it until I mentioned the name Dunbar.

Today would be Meggie’s first day back in the office after her ordeal and I’d really wanted to be here to lend a hand if she needed help getting things back in order. I could also be a second person in the office in case she felt uneasy about being alone at first. But it looked like that was not to be, at least for the first few hours. Maybe I’d be able to get back soon if there were some miraculous break in the Dunbar situation.

Precisely at seven twenty-eight the British Air flight from London touched down and rolled down the taxiway to Gate 4. The entire Inverness airport consists of one long terminal building with four doors, where passengers walk outside to climb portable steps to their planes. I watched through field glasses from my seat in the helicopter, two hundred yards and two fences away.

As soon as the ground crew wheeled the stairway toward the plane, I brought my engine up to speed and pulled pitch. Setting the ship down fifty feet away from the jet, in my pre-cleared spot, I tightened down my controls and waited.

Edward and Elizabeth Campbell weren’t hard to spot. Evidently they’d been in first class because they were among the first ten people off the plane. Edward was scanning the area and he nudged his wife and pointed toward the helicopter. I climbed down from my seat and unplugged my headset, leaving it on to muffle some of the turbine whine that filled the area. I reached them by the time they hit the bottom of the steps.

Edward wore a charcoal business suit, white shirt and light gray tie with tiny black dots. His thinning brown hair was trimmed short and his smooth-shaven face had not quite become jowly, yet. His mouth was pulled into a somber expression. He moved with the authority of a man accustomed to getting his way.

“Hi, I’m Charlie.” I held out my hand and noticed that Edward looked at it before he shook it. His eyes skimmed the black slacks and cotton sweater I’d purposely chosen instead of my usual jeans.