Competition Can Be Murder (13 page)

Colin Finnie, the crew chief, came out of his office and I immediately saw Brankin approach him. Brankin turned away from me, but his gestures and body language pretty well said it. He was making his point that the helicopter service was unreliable. Barrie and Tolliver stood by, a solid little group. Finnie looked down at Brankin and took it in. His face remained placid. He let Brankin go on for a couple of minutes, then dismissed him. The three men stomped back to the elevator.

Finnie crossed to Drake, who had just finished locking the doors and compartments on the Astar. He listened as Drake talked, that same unruffled look on his face. After a short exchange, he gave me a small salute and headed toward his office. Drake came over and stowed his survival gear and flight bag in the cargo compartment.

“Finnie says he’ll do his best to keep his eye on things until I can get back,” Drake said, once he’d fastened his harness and put on his headset. “He’s not happy about this breakdown.”

I rechecked my instruments and brought the engine up to speed again.

“I guess Brankin gave Finnie an earful about how unreliable we were,” Drake said. “He’s really putting the pressure on the oil company to cancel their contract with us and to let the boat operators handle all the work.”

I concentrated for a minute on getting safely off the platform and onto the correct heading for the airport. “Do you think the union men had anything to do with your breakdown?”

“Probably not. Well, if the problem is what the mechanic thinks it is, they didn’t. But you can bet I’ll have the guy go over the ship with a fine tooth comb before I head out over open water again.” He fidgeted in his seat, then rubbed his hands briskly along his pant legs. “Damn.”

“You know, hon,” I said, ever the voice of reason, “this really isn’t our problem. Maybe you should tell Brian he needs to get back here and run his own business.”

“I would. In a heartbeat.”

“But, his mother’s dying and you just don’t have the heart to do it.”

The side of his mouth quirked upward in a little grimace.

“No more than I have the heart to tell the Dunbars that I want nothing to do with tracking down Richie.” I filled him in on the arrival of Edward and Elizabeth, the calls to the other boys’ families, and Edward’s revelation that Richie had run off before.

“Do you think that’s what happened?” he asked.

“I don’t know what to think at this point. That ransom call certainly convinced Robert. And Edward admitted that the scare tactics didn’t sound like Richie. I’m going to talk to his girlfriend this afternoon and try to locate someone at one of those clubs who may have seen the boys last night.” I paused to make a brief course correction. “That is, if you don’t need me.”

“No, nothing you can do at this point about the Astar. I’ll take this ship and finish shuttling the crews out and back today, and I want to talk to the mechanic. Just be sure he brings enough diagnostic equipment to test the aircraft thoroughly.”

We made an uneventful landing and he took over the controls. “Be careful,” I said as I got out.

I stood at the edge of the tarmac, an uneasy feeling hanging over me as I watched him become a speck in the distance.

Inside, I peeled off my survival suit and asked Meggie if there were any messages. None. She’d done an impressive job of organizing her files, and the place was nearly neat again. I picked up the phone and dialed Dunworthy. Sarah answered.

“Any news?” I asked.

“Not a thing. The men have gone out to practice their putting on the lawn. Edward reminded us that Richie has run off before and I think that put Robert’s mind at ease quite a bit.”

“But the ransom call? Richie wouldn’t do that, would he?”

“Oh, heavens no,” she said. “But I just don’t know . . . I mean, what else is there to think?”

Only the unthinkable.

I told her my afternoon plans and gave her a cell phone number in case there were any developments. Instructing Meggie to call me if Drake encountered any problems, I got into the rental car and headed toward town.

The Grahame’s neat stone house wasn’t too hard to find. With my trusty map of Inverness’s winding residential streets, and my learning to drive on the opposite side of them, I only missed it twice before I negotiated the one-ways correctly and pulled up in exactly the right place.

“Janie? She’s at work,” a short, round man with bristly light brown hair told me. He’d answered the door wearing wrinkled khaki pants and a dingy sleeveless undershirt. “Up Beat, at the mall. It’s a music store. Be there till six.”

I thanked him for the information and declined the beer he offered me.

I knew where the mall was—I’d passed it twice on my way. The only trick would be negotiating the one-way streets until I actually got to it. Chin up, Charlie. You can do this.

Actually, it only took about ten minutes. I rode the elevator from the parking garage to the second level and emerged onto the shopping level. Aside from the Celtic patterns in the floor tile, the shiny, bright, fluorescent-lit shops filled with jewelry, clothing, and electronics could be in any mall in the world. I spotted Up Beat about halfway down the main corridor.

When I asked for Janie Grahame, the clerk at the front of the store pointed to a desk at the back. “The girl on the telephone,” he said.

I browsed through CDs by everyone from Tim McGraw to the Rolling Stones before Janie ended the call. When she finally appeared to be free, I approached her.

“Janie, hi. My name’s Charlie Parker. I was with Mr. and Mrs. Dunbar last night when they called you.”

Her pretty face went blank.

“It’s about Richie,” I explained. I could see where the attraction would be for the gangly, sixteen year old boy. Janie’s blond hair had the texture of silk and hung midway down her back. Her body was willowy, although she stood only about five-three. Her skin was flawless and her makeup tastefully done.

“Oh! There was a phone call during the night, wasn’t there?” She automatically straightened racks of CDs while we talked.

“Richie never did come home last night,” I said. “His parents and grandparents are awfully worried. Have you heard from him?”

Her Wedgwood blue eyes widened.

“Look, I have a break in fifteen minutes.” She checked a chunky blue plastic watch that looked huge on her delicate wrist.

“If there’s somewhere we can sit down, maybe grab a Coke or something . . .? I can meet you there.”

She suggested an ice cream place in the mall and pointed the way.

I located it, two doors away from the music store, and remembered I’d only eaten half a slice of coffee cake all day. The smell of grilling hot dogs suddenly turned me ravenous. I ordered one, along with chips and a large Coke. My request for ice branded me immediately as an American, I felt sure, but I didn’t think I could handle another lukewarm soda.

I stuffed the last bite of hot dog into my mouth and checked my watch. Fifteen minutes had passed and no Janie. I stepped to the door just in time to see her leave the music store and turn the opposite direction.

“Oh, Janie!” I shouted. “Over here!”

She spun around like she’d been nipped in the flank.

I waved her toward me.

A look of something between despair and dread crossed her face. Her feet dragged her to the ice cream shop, but she clearly didn’t want to come. Only an ingrained sense of obligation to obey adults propelled her. Adults. I realized with a mild shock that I was nearly old enough to be her mother.

“Can I get you an ice cream or a drink?” I offered, making my voice as gentle as possible. I certainly wasn’t going to get any useful information out of her if she was afraid of me.

She shook her head. I pushed my fries toward her but she ignored them.

“Janie, this is really important or I wouldn’t be asking.”

She nodded, but her eyes wouldn’t meet mine.

“Something may have happened to Richie. We need to know anything you can tell us about where he might be.”

“I told you the names of the clubs where he hangs out.”

“I know, and I’m going to check them out. But did you see him last night at all?”

Her drooping head went back and forth slowly. A tear rolled down one cheek.

I glanced around. We were at a corner table and no one was paying any attention to us. “Janie? What’s the matter?” I reached out to stroke her upper arm, but she flinched away from me. “Do you know what’s happened to Richie?”

A second tear began its trek down her other cheek.

“Janie, I need to know anything that might help us find him.” No movement whatsoever. “Now.” The single word came out more firmly than I’d intended, but it had its effect. A sob escaped beneath the curtain of golden hair that shielded her face.

“You can’t tell anyone.”

“Janie, that depends on what it is. If this has to do with Richie’s safety, I may have to.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Just tell me.” I wanted to shake her.

“I’m preg—”

“Oh, boy.” I didn’t mean to make it sound so fateful, but it did. “Does Richie know?”

“Yes. I told him last week.” She picked up one of the fries.

I pushed a paper napkin toward her and she dabbed discreetly at her eyes. She took another fry. Now that the big secret was out, her appetite returned with a vengeance. I let her go at them while I formulated my next few questions. A sixteen year old boy who’s just learned he’s going to be a father might have reason to think he could avoid the problem by simply running away. I had to admit that I didn’t know Richie well at all, but his respectful attitude and demeanor toward me made me think he’d be likely to have a sense of honor about this too.

“Do your parents know?” I asked.

Her eyes grew wide. “No! And I can’t face them alone, I can’t. Richie said he’d be here with me. Stand by my side. All that.”

She reached for another potato but a tear rolled toward her mouth. “He said he loved me. I thought we’d be married.”

“Janie, we’re doing everything we can to find him.” I reached out to pat her hand and this time she let me. “When we do, I promise you, I’ll—” My cell phone began to chirp away down inside my purse.

Drake and Sarah were the only people with the number, and either way, I wasn’t sure the news would be good. I answered it with a twist of trepidation in my gut.

“Charlie, it’s Sarah. Alasdair and Lewis have just come back.”

“Don’t let them get away. I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” I clicked off and jammed the phone down into my bag.

Janie’s china blue eyes watched me, a mix of hope and fear running across her face.

“Sorry, it’s not Richie. Not yet. But it’s a good lead.” I pulled out my keys and stood up. “I’ll let you know what I find out.” I’d started to leave, but turned back to her. “Hang in there, okay?”

She nodded, her full lower lip quivering.

I dashed through the procedure of feeding my parking ticket into the automated payment machine on the wall near the elevators and giving it a few coins, then practically ran through the garage to the car. Now, if I could just get out of town without getting completely turned around. My mind was whirling as I negotiated the roundabout at the edge of town and headed toward Dunworthy.

“Everyone’s in the kitchen,” Molly said, letting me in.

Kitchens must be the gathering place in every culture, I decided. Three boys sat on stools at the counter and for a second the happy thought hit me that Richie had also come back. But the third young man was a stranger to me.

The four adults hovered over them and it seemed that everyone was talking at once, most of it a fast Scottish brogue that I couldn’t follow. Ruffie stayed near Sarah’s heels.

“Ah, here’s Charlie,” Robert said, motioning me in. “Let’s let her handle the interrogation.”

I wished he hadn’t put it that way.

“Tea, Charlie?” Sarah asked, clearly looking for a way to stay busy.

I declined and turned to the boys. Alasdair and Lewis were wearing the same clothes they must have worn the previous night. Over-large black jeans and shirts, a single gold earring each, and an assortment of chains and other little decorator items. The third boy was dressed in everyday jeans and a big Benneton T-shirt. His flame-red hair was gelled into carefully disarranged spikes.

“Guys?” I interrupted their lively exchange of heavy brogue interspersed with doses of Scots Gaelic. “Can we take a deep breath here? I need you to tell me where Richie is.”

“We don’t know, ma’am.” Alasdair, by default, became the spokesman for the group. “Swear. We lost him last night and thought he’d come home.”

“Tell me everything that happened last night. From the start.”

They’d already covered this ground, I could tell, but I made them go through it again.

“We left here about six. Went to Waldo Green’s.”

“No—” Lewis interrupted. “The Pelican first.”

“Right,” Alasdair said. “The Pelican first. Not much happening there, so we went to Waldo Green’s. It was just a short time later. Richie was driving.”