Remember Me (31 page)

The drawing was of an even-featured man of about thirty with a whisp of beard and longish hair. He was wearing breeches, a doublet, a cape and a high-collared ruffled shirt, and his shoes had silver buckles.

She lowered her voice. “According to this bio, Tobias left Eastham under a cloud. He got in trouble when he became involved with a couple of the good-wives, and a lot of people were sure he had a wrecker business going . . . that's a mooncusser, you know.”

She skimmed the brochure and handed it to Menley. “Apparently in 1704, a few years after Tobias settled in Chatham, he was questioned by the Crown when all the cargo from the
Thankful
was missing. Everyone was sure he was guilty, but he must have found a way to hide his loot. He disappeared two years later. The theory is that it got too hot for him around Chatham and he took off to start fresh somewhere else.”

“What was the cargo?” Menley asked.

“Clothing, blankets, household goods, coffee, rum
—the reason it caused so much trouble is that it was all headed for the governor's mansion in Boston.”

“Where did they usually hide all the cargo?”

“In sheds, buried on the shore, and some of them even had hidden rooms within their houses. These rooms were usually behind the fireplace.”

O
n Tuesday morning, Nat Coogan left for work earlier than usual. As a matter of curiosity, he drove past Scott Covey's house to see if there was any sign of his getting ready to clear out. Nat had no doubt that now that the inquest was over and the decision favorable, Covey would shake the dust of the Cape from his shoes.

But early as he was, he could see that Covey was already gone. The shades were drawn and there were a couple of garbage bags on the side of the house for pickup. You don't need a search warrant to go through stuff that has been left for disposal, Nat thought as he parked his car.

One bag contained cans and bottles for recycling as well as sharp fragments of broken glass. The other had garbage and trash, including a frame with the rest of the broken glass stuck in it and a picture with long crisscross scratches. Oh my, my, Nat thought. There
was the original aerial photo of Remember House, the one that had been in the real estate office window. Even in its mutilated condition it was clearer than the duplicate Marge had shown him in the office. But the section with the boat had been torn out. Why? Nat wondered. Why did he try to destroy it? Why not just leave it if he didn't want to be bothered carrying it? And why did he tear the boat out of the picture? And why was it missing from the copy print as well?

He put the mangled photo in the trunk of the car and drove to Main Street. Elaine Atkins was just opening up. She greeted him pleasantly. “I have that picture you want. I can get it framed if you like.”

“No, don't bother,” Nat said quickly. “I'll take it now. Deb wants to take care of the framing herself.” He reached for the print. He studied it. “Terrific! That's great photography!”

“1 agree. A panoramic aerial photo can be a real selling tool, but just on its own, this one is wonderful.”

“At the department we sometimes need aerial work done. Do you use someone around here?”

“Yes, Walter Orr from Orleans.”

Nat continued to study the print. It was the same version that Marge had put in the window three days ago. Nat said, “Am I wrong, or when the picture was in the window did it have a boat in it?”

“The negative got damaged,” Elaine said quickly. “I had to do some patching.”

He noticed her heightened color. And why are you so nervous? he wondered.

“What do I owe you?” he asked.

“Nothing. I do my own developing.”

“That's very nice of you. Miss Atkins.”

T
uesday was not an easy day for Fred Hendin. Knowing that he was about to give up Tina for good was an assault on his senses. He was thirty-eight now and had dated a number of girls over the years. At least half of them would probably have married him.

Fred knew that by some standards he was a good catch. He was a hard worker who made a comfortable living. He had been a devoted son and he would be a devoted husband and father. People would have been surprised to know exactly how robust his bank account was, although he had always had the feeling Tina could sense it.

Right now if he called up Jean or Lillian or Marcia, he knew he would have a dinner date tonight.

The trouble was that he had genuinely fallen in love with Tina. He had always known she could be moody and demanding, but when he went out with her on his arm, he felt like a king. And she could be lots of fun.

He had to get her out of his mind. All day he was distracted, thinking about her and about having to give her up. The boss had even called him on it a couple of times. “Hey, Fred, stop daydreaming. We've got a job to finish.”

He looked again at the house across the road; somehow
it didn't have the same appeal today. Oh, sure, he probably would buy it, but it wouldn't be the same. He had imagined Tina in it with him.

But a man had his dignity, his pride. He had to end it with Tina. The papers today were filled with the details of the inquest. Nothing had been left out: the condition of Vivian's right hand; the missing emerald ring; Tina's visits to Covey in Florida. Fred had winced to find his own name mentioned as Tina's on-again-off-again boyfriend, and now fiancé. The account made him look like a fool.

Yes, he had to end it. Tomorrow, when he drove her to the airport, he would tell her. But one thing concerned him. It would be just like Tina to refuse to give his mother's jewelry back to him.

*   *   *

At six o'clock when he got to Tina's and found that as usual she wasn't ready, he had turned on the television and then opened the jewelry box.

His mother's pearls and watch and pin were there, as well as the engagement ring he had just given Tina. It had served her purpose, and she probably couldn't wait to get it off her finger, he thought. He put the pieces in his pocket.

And then he stared. Buried underneath Tina's inexpensive chains and bracelets, he glimpsed a ring. It was a large green stone with a diamond on each side, mounted in platinum.

He picked it up and studied it. Even a fool would have recognized the clarity and depth of that emerald. Fred knew he was holding the family ring that had been ripped from Vivian Carpenter's finger.

*   *   *

When Menley arrived home from visiting the Tobias Knight house, Amy was sitting on the steps. “You must have thought I'd forgotten about you,” Menley said apologetically.

“I knew you didn't.” Amy unbuckled Hannah from the car seat.

“Amy, yesterday I overheard you talking to my husband about the tape of Bobby. Tell me about that.”

Reluctantly Amy recounted how she happened to have it.

“Where is it now?”

“Home. I took it from Elaine's house last night when I borrowed more movie tapes. I was going to give it to Mr. Nichols when he gets back Thursday.”

“Give it to me in the morning.”

“Of course.”

O
n the day after the inquest, Graham and Anne Carpenter decided to go on a cruise. “We need to get away,” Graham decreed.

Anne, deeply depressed by recent events, agreed listlessly. Their other two daughters had come out for the hearing, and Emily, the older one, said bluntly, “Mother, you must stop blaming yourself. In her own way poor Vivy loved you and Dad very much, and I don't think she'd want to see you like this. Go on a trip. Get away from all this. Have a great time with Daddy, and you two take care of each other.”

Tuesday evening, after Emily and Barbara and their
husbands left, Anne and Graham sat out on the front porch, making plans for the trip. Anne's voice was brighter, and she laughed as they recalled some of the other cruises they had taken.

Graham had to put in words the way he felt: “It hasn't been pleasant for either of us to be depicted as horrible parents in the tabloids, and I'm sure they'll have a field day describing the inquest. But we did what we had to do, and I think that somewhere Vivian knows we tried to secure justice for her.”

“And I pray she also knows we can do no more.”

“Oh, look, there's Pres Crenshaw with Brutus.”

They watched as their elderly neighbor walked slowly down the road past their gate, his German shepherd on a leash.

“Set your watch,” Graham said. “Ten o'clock on the dot.”

A moment later, a car drove past the gate. “Pres should be careful, that road is dark,” Anne said.

They turned and went into the house.

M
enley invited Amy to stay for dinner. She sensed something forlorn about the young girl. “I'm just making a salad and linguine with clam sauce,” she explained, “but you're welcome to share it.”

“I'd love to.”

She really is a nice kid, Menley thought, and actually she's not that much of a kid. She's almost eighteen and has a quiet poise that really is attractive. Plus she is more responsible than most adults. But she sure doesn't like the idea of her father marrying Elaine.

That was a subject Menley had no intention of bringing up, however. What she did introduce was Amy's preparations for college.

Discussing her plans, Amy became animated. “I've talked on the phone to my roommate. She sounds nice. We've decided on spreads and curtains. Her mother will help her buy them, and I'll pay my share.”

“What have you done about clothes?”

“Elaine said she'll drive to Boston someday and we'll have a—wait, how does she put it—a ‘fun girl day together.' Isn't that awful?”

“Amy, don't fight her,” Menley said. “She's going to marry your father.”

“Why? She certainly doesn't love him.”

“Of course she does.”

“Menley, I mean Mrs. Nichols, my father is a very boring man.”

“Amy!” Menley protested.

“No, I mean it. He's nice and kind and good and successful but that's not what we're talking about. Elaine doesn't love him. He gives her corny gifts, at least he gives them in a corny way, and she puts on the big act. She's going to make him miserable and she knows that I know it and that's why she can't stand me.”

“Amy, I hope Hannah doesn't talk about her father like that someday,” Menley said, shaking her head even as she acknowledged that Amy was right on target.

“Are you kidding? Mr. Nichols is the kind of guy
women want. And if you want to know something, the list starts with Elaine.”

*   *   *

When Amy left, Menley walked through the house, locking up. She turned on the local weather channel and learned that a storm was brewing that would hit the Cape tomorrow in the late afternoon or early evening. I had better make sure we have a flashlight and candles just in case, she thought.

The phone rang as she was settling at her desk in the library. It was Jan Paley.

“I missed you yesterday when you were at Scott Covey's house,” Jan said. “I wanted you to know that Phoebe was talking about Tobias Knight again. Menley, I think you're right. She is trying to tell us something about him.”

“I stopped by his Eastham house today after I dropped Adam off,” Menley said. “The receptionist showed me his picture. Jan, Tobias looked like a sneak and a dandy. I can't imagine why Mehitabel ever would have bothered with him. Another interesting point is that, according to the dates we have, she was already at least three months pregnant with Andrew Freeman's child when she was denounced.”

She paused. “I guess I'm really thinking aloud. I've had two pregnancies, and the last thing in the world that would have intrigued me during the first three months of either one of them is to become involved in a love affair.”

“Then what are you thinking?” Jan asked.

“Tobias Knight was a mooncusser. He was being questioned by the Crown about the cargo of the
Thankful
around the time he was seen visiting Mehitabel at unseemly hours. Suppose he wasn't visiting her? Suppose she never knew he was around? If he hadn't confessed to carrying on with Mehitabel, they'd have looked for another reason for him to be here. Suppose
he hid some of the
Thankful
cargo on these grounds, or even in this house?”

“Oh, I don't think in the house,” Jan protested.

“The dimensions of the first-floor rooms here are smaller than in the Eastham place. But from the outside the house is the same size. I'm going to poke around a bit.”

“I don't think it will do you much good. If there ever was a storage area, it's probably been boarded up for the last two hundred years. But it is possible that one did exist at some time.”

“Did anyone ever suggest that this house might have had a hidden room?”

“Not to me. And the last contractor did an awful lot of work. He's Nick Bean, from Orleans.”

“Do you mind if I talk to him tomorrow?”

“Of course not. And feel free to poke around. Good night, Menley.”

When she replaced the receiver, Menley leaned back in the chair and studied the drawings of Mehitabel and Andrew. On the ship they had looked so happy together.

Mehitabel had died swearing her innocence, and a week later Andrew had set sail into an oncoming storm, frantic to bring his baby back and crying out his love for his wife. Was it possible that he had been convinced of Mehitabel's innocence and been driven out of his mind with regret?

Every instinct told Menley that she was on the right track.

She settled back at the desk but now was not interested in going through the files. Something Amy had said at dinner had to be faced. Elaine might be engaged to another man, but she was in love with Adam. I sensed it that night at dinner, Menley thought. Elaine didn't forget she had that tape. She deliberately withheld
it, knowing that it was irreplaceable to us. What use was it to her except to be able to look at Adam?