Last Words (2 page)

Beck got up and walked to the end of the hall, taking both printouts with him. At the bulletin board, he pinned the two pictures up, side by side. On his way back to his office, it occurred to him that Cameron was about seven miles from St. Dennis. Which made it only three miles from Ballard. Way too close to St. Dennis for comfort.

He wondered if either of the girls had turned up. If the investigations had led to any leads. If Meyer in Cameron had been in touch with Chief Daley in Ballard. If they’d traded notes. That’s what he’d do, if it happened in his town.

God forbid, he thought as walked back to his office.

The photo of Mindy Kelleher was still on his computer screen. Pretty girl, he thought as he closed the e-mail. As the image faded away, a solid chill went up his spine. It gave him pause for just a moment. Then he turned off the computer and headed down the hall.

“I’ll be on foot for a while,” Beck told Garland as he passed by and left through the front door.

He walked swiftly to the path that led from the building to Kelly’s Point Road. From there it was a short walk to the center of town. It was a path he’d walked more times than he could count. Today he couldn’t seem to walk fast enough.

Like Hal said, the chief of police should know what was going on, and today was as good a day as any to see what folks were up to, and who was walking the streets of his town.

2

“So what was the final tally?”

Vanessa Keaton, Beck’s sister, slid into the booth across from her brother, then plunked her large designer handbag on the seat next to her.

“Is that thing alive?” Beck asked.

“Is what thing alive?” Vanessa frowned.

“That…whatever it was you just tossed onto the seat there.” He pretended to crane his neck to see over the table. “’Cause you know, this is a nice restaurant. They don’t allow animals in here.”

“Very funny.” She held up the bag, which was a patchwork leather number trimmed in faux fur. “Isn’t it darling? I get them from a designer in Baltimore. And for your information, it’s fake fur. I wouldn’t sell anything with real fur. And I sold eight of these little babies this weekend. I’m going to have to order more.”

“So I take it your shop is doing well?”

“Please. It’s a boutique.” She fluttered her eyelashes and tossed her long black hair over her shoulders. “And quite the froufrou boutique it is, too.”

“Yeah, froufrou. Whatever,” Beck said and signaled for the waitress.

Vanessa laughed. Beck tried not to.

“So you didn’t answer my question.” She opened her menu and began to scan the specials. “What was the final tally for the weekend?”

“Four fender benders, sixteen parking tickets, three lost kids, six lost parents, one pedestrian knocked down by a bicycle—fortunately, not a bike ridden by one of my officers—three stolen purses, and a couple of lost credit cards.” He sipped the beer he’d ordered before she arrived. “All in all, not so bad, given the size of the crowd we had.”

“How’s the pedestrian?”

“She’s fine.” Beck looked up as Shirley, the waitress, approached. “I’ll have the soft-shells tonight, Shirl.”

“Good choice. They’re perfect.” She made a note on her order pad. “Salad dressing, Chief?”

“Blue cheese.”

“Same for you, Vanessa?” the woman asked.

“Ah, you mean, crustaceans cooked in garlicky butter in their allegedly edible little shells?” She wrinkled her nose. “I think not. I’ll have the flounder special. Balsamic dressing on the greens.”

“You’ll never be mistaken for a native, you keep talking like that,” Beck teased.

“I don’t have a problem with that.” She shook her head firmly. “I never pretended to be a native of the Eastern Shore, bro. And therefore I am exempt from having to eat those floppy little crabs.”

“Those floppy little crabs are damned tasty.”

“I just can’t get past the fact that they’re caught while they’re
molting
, for Christ’s sake. Scooped up when they’re most vulnerable, sold to the highest bidder, and slapped into a pan of butter and herbs….” She faked a shiver. “Inhuman, I say. Sneaky and underhanded, even.”

“But damned tasty,” Beck repeated.

“So you say.”

“And what was your tally this weekend?” he asked as their salads were served.

“I did so well, Beck.” Vanessa’s eyes shone with pleasure. “My best sales ever. It was just wonderful. All those customers, oohing and aahing over all the pretty things. It was just the way I always dreamed it would be, having my own little shop.”

Beck cleared his throat.

“
Boutique
, that is,” she corrected herself with a grin. “Lots of customers lined up at the cash register all day long. It was just…perfect.”

“Now, you know that every weekend isn’t likely to be as busy,” he reminded her.

“I know it won’t always be this good,” she said, nodding, “but I think St. Dennis is going to continue to attract crowds, right on through to the fall. And the Chamber of Commerce has all those wonderful plans for Christmas; the brochures were given out all weekend. I was handing them out to the customers and a number of people said they’d be back.”

“I’m just saying take it as it comes, Ness. I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“I appreciate that, but I think it’s going to be a great season. I think all the advertising has paid off. I saw Jonah on my way over here, and he said his inn is booked straight into September.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No. I’m telling you, St. Dennis is the new hot spot on the Eastern Shore.”

“Swell,” he said, half under his breath.

“It is swell. For us merchants, anyway.” She poked at her salad happily. “For you…well, maybe not so much. Maybe you need to think about hiring a few more officers.”

“There’s nothing in the town budget for that. I’m lucky to have Hal and Phil even part-time this year.”

“Well, with all the extra money the town is going to bring in over the next few months in parking revenue alone, you should be able to get maybe one more cop out of the town council, don’t you think?”

“We’ll see.” He speared a chunk of cucumber. It wasn’t just the salary, he could have told her, it was benefits, uniforms, another car, higher insurance, but Beck was tired from the long weekend and wasn’t up to giving his sister a lesson in municipal finance.

“Anyway, I’m glad you had a great weekend, Ness.”

“I had a super weekend.” She grinned, her eyes sparkling.

“Something else happen?”

“I got asked out to dinner for tomorrow night.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “As in a date.”

“Who?” He frowned. “Who asked you out?”

“Mickey Forbes.”

“Forbes?” Beck’s frown deepened. “He’s married with kids.”

“No, he’s not. They’re getting divorced.” She ignored his disapproval. “Where have you been? She left him months ago.”

“Still…”

Vanessa tossed her hair back, and the image of Colleen Preston flashed through Beck’s mind.

“How well do you know him?”

“Beck.” She put her fork down. “It’s dinner.
Dinner
. That’s all. What’s the big deal?”

He hesitated, not sure what to say.

“Look, it’s really sweet of you to want to be the big brother. I kinda like it sometimes, especially since I didn’t have that growing up, you know?” She tried to laugh. “And God knows, I could have used some brotherly guidance, back then.”

“Ness…” His face darkened with regret.

“Hey, not your fault. That wasn’t meant as anything other than a statement of fact.” She reached across the table and patted his hand. “And you’ve more than made up for it this past year. There’s no way I can ever repay you for helping me set up the shop and finding the apartment for me and—”

He waved her words away.

“Just be careful who you go out with, where you go, keep your doors locked, that’s all I’m saying.”

“Do you know something I don’t know?” Her eyes narrowed.

“Little sister, I know lots of things you don’t know.” He tried to interject a little humor into the conversation but it fell flat.

“Admitted, but right now we’re talking about Mickey Forbes. Is there something you know about him that I should know?”

“No, nothing. I just didn’t know he was getting divorced, that’s all. Wouldn’t want to see you step into a mess.”

“I appreciate that, Beck. I really do.”

Their dinners arrived and the conversation ceased for a moment as each concentrated on their meal.

“There is one thing,” he said after a few minutes of near silence. “I got alerts from the chiefs of police in two nearby towns. One from Cameron, which is about seven miles south of here, and the other from Ballard, which is—”

“I know Ballard. The stable where I ride is in Ballard.” Vanessa nodded. “What was the alert about?”

“Each town has a young woman missing. Cameron a little over a month ago, Ballard two weeks ago.”

“And they haven’t been found?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“But they haven’t been found dead, either, right?”

“Right.”

“So they could just have run away or left town or be off on a binge someplace? Couldn’t it just be a coincidence that there are two of them?”

“It’s possible. I don’t know enough about either case right now to say, but I guess when someone’s missing, those are all possibilities. Earlier today I called both Daley and Meyer, but I haven’t heard back yet. Of course, I was out of the office all day. I expect I’ll learn more once I’ve been able to catch up with them. But in the meantime…”

“I hear you, and I understand what you’re saying.” She nodded slowly. “And I promise not to do anything stupid or go anyplace alone. Though God knows St. Dennis is probably the safest place I’ve ever lived.”

“There’s no place that’s entirely safe from everything, Ness.” He cut his soft-shell crab with his fork and raised the fork to his mouth.

“Oh, man, that is one ugly thing you’re eating.” She visibly shivered.

Beck waved the fork at her, relieved to have the diversion. The two young women had been heavy on his mind ever since he’d read those e-mails yesterday morning. Vanessa’s comments were right on. Either or both of them could have returned home by now, or contacted their parents to let them know their whereabouts. Or they could have run away from home.

Or they could be dead.

He shook off the last thought. If he didn’t hear back from someone by tomorrow noon, he’d try Warren Daley again. Maybe he’d have some news that he hadn’t gotten around to sharing with the surrounding departments yet.

Maybe then that cold spike Beck got up the back of his neck every time he thought of Colleen Preston or Mindy Kenneher might go away for good.

They finished their entrées and talked quietly while Vanessa polished off a huge serving of strawberry shortcake and two cups of coffee. Shirley returned twice to the table with the coffeepot in her hand.

“You sure, Chief?” She asked when he declined a second cup.

“I’m sure,” he told her. “I’m up with the sun again tomorrow. Any more caffeine and I’ll still be awake come dawn.”

“Which would make him very cranky,” Vanessa stage-whispered.

“Well, we couldn’t have that, now, could we?” Shirley placed the check on the table. “Whenever you’re ready, Chief.”

“That’s mine.” Vanessa reached for the check. “And don’t argue with me. I had a very good day.”

“So you said.” He leaned against the back of the booth and smiled. “And I’m not arguing.”

“Good, ’cause it wouldn’t do you any good.” She placed several bills on the table and looked across at her brother. “You ready?”

“I am.”

They both stood at the same time and headed for the door, Beck stopping at this table and that to have a word here and there. While he did so, Vanessa waited patiently, watching her brother shake a hand or pat a back, always with a smile on his face.

“You’re in your element here,” she said when he joined her at the door.

“Seems so.” He pushed the door open and nodded to the couple coming in as he and Vanessa went out.

“I’m glad. It was a long time coming.”

He didn’t bother to respond. There was nothing to be said.

“You’re almost happy here, aren’t you?”

“Almost.”

“I guess that’s something.” She touched his arm lightly to acknowledge his admission, then pointed to the end of the street. “My car’s down there. Where’s yours?”

“I let Hal take the patrol car. He spent too much time on his feet today. I figured I could walk home, walk in to the station in the morning.”

“Walk me down to my car, then, and I’ll drive you home.”

“Sure.”

They strolled along the newly cobbled sidewalk, renovated in the early spring when the final colonial touches were made to the town to play up its revolutionary war heritage and hopefully, bring in some tourist money. Vanessa’s heels tapped on the stones as they walked the two blocks to her car.

“I got a postcard from Mom,” Vanessa told him when they’d gone half a block. “She’s in North Dakota.”

When Beck didn’t respond, she said, “She’s remarried. A sheep farmer this time.”

“Did she invite you to come to see her?”

“No.”

“Did she say she’d come to see you?”

“No.”

“Did she apologize for—”

“Stop it.” Vanessa had reached her car and stood at the door, her key in her right hand. “Just…stop.”

“Then stop telling me about her. I don’t care where she is and I don’t want to know what she’s doing.”

Vanessa unlocked the door. “Get in. I’ll drop you off.”

“I think I’ll walk.”

“Don’t be mad at me, Beck. I just thought you’d want to know—”

“Know what? That Maggie’s alive and well and living large out West? Fine. You told me.” He exhaled a long, deep breath. “I’m not angry with you. I swear I’m not. I just don’t want to hear about it, okay?”

“Okay.” Vanessa nodded. “You sure about the ride?”

“Positive. I really feel like walking, but thanks anyway. And thanks for dinner.”

Vanessa saluted and got into her car. Beck stood on the sidewalk and watched until the sedan disappeared around the corner at Gull Lane, then began to walk home. It was hardly late—barely ten o’clock—but already St. Dennis had turned in for the night. Many of the houses were closed up, with lamplight or the blue haze of a TV in the occasional window. Almost everyone in town had participated in some way over the weekend, and everyone who had done so was tired from their efforts. Beck’s long legs covered a lot of ground in a short amount of time, and within five minutes he was home. He unlocked the front door and stepped into the dark house, snapping on a lamp in the living room as he passed through to the kitchen, where he poured himself a glass of water and tried not to think about the fact that he now knew where his mother was. Life was so much easier when he didn’t know. Not knowing relieved him of the responsibility of having contact with her.

Yeah, right, he snorted. Like anyone in this family has ever really been responsible for anyone else.

Not true, he reminded himself. He’d made himself responsible for Vanessa the day she walked into his life and announced, “Hi. I’m your little sister. Mom said it was about time we met…”

So typical of Maggie. That was just the way she’d dumped Beck on his unsuspecting father. Just as Beck had had no idea he had a sister, his father had had no idea he had a son.

Beck figured that, in the long run, he’d gotten the best of the bargain. Maggie had done only two things for Beck that really counted in his life: she’d dumped him on his father’s front door when he was fourteen, and she’d sent him a sister. Twenty-six years old at the time and newly divorced from an abusive husband—her second—and as different from Beck as the sun is from the moon, Vanessa had quickly been welcomed by not only her brother, but by his father as well. They certainly made an odd trio, he mused as he turned off the lamp he’d switched on earlier. The craggy old man, the beautiful, leggy young woman who looked like a fashion model, and the cop who’d taken a lifetime to find himself.