The Secret (Seacliff High Mystery Book 1) (7 page)

“You think Mary’s baby could be Barkley's child?” Alyson asked as they drove back toward the center of town.

“Dates seem right,” Trevor agreed.

“Poor thing. I hadn’t even stopped to think about the fact that she would have been ostracized. Single women have babies all the time now and no one thinks much about it.”

“It was a different world back then,” Trevor sympathized. “There’s a pretty good diner around the corner. Want to grab a bite? I’m starving.”

“Sure,” Alyson agreed. She’d told her mom she was eating in town, so it wouldn’t do much for her cover story if she went home and pigged out.

“They have the best meat loaf and mashed potatoes with gravy here. It’s truly a work of art.”

“I think I’ll stick to something a little lighter, but you go ahead.”

The café was warm and cozy, with red checked tablecloths, flickering candles, and soft lighting. All of a sudden this started to feel like a date, and although Alyson liked Trevor a lot, she wasn’t sure she wanted to go down that particular road with him.

“I’ll pay,” Alyson insisted, trying to break the normal date routine. “After all, I owe you after you spent the whole weekend helping me clean my attic.”

“Sure, whatever,” Trevor responded, as if he didn’t care one way or the other. “The fog’s rolling in and it’s getting a little chilly. There’s a seat by the fireplace. Let’s grab it.”

As promised, the food was wonderful. Alyson decided on grilled salmon with dill sauce and Trevor ordered the predicted meat loaf. During dinner the conversation turned to more general subjects like football and classes.

“Excuse me, miss,” the waitress interrupted a lively debate about which professional football team was best positioned to win that year’s Super Bowl. “The man over by the front door asked me to give this to you.”

“What man?” Alyson took the folded slip of paper the waitress handed her and looked toward the door.

“Why, that man in the coat.” The waitress turned toward the empty doorway. “He was there a minute ago. I was sitting behind the cashier’s counter when he came in, handed me the note, and asked me to give it to you. I guess he must have gone.”

Trevor took the note from Alyson. “What exactly did the man look like?” he demanded as he read the note.

“Tall, dark hair. He wore a long coat and a large hat. Sort of looked like one of those detectives in the movies.”

“What exactly did he say?” Trevor stood up and walked over to the now empty doorway and looked outside.

“He just asked me to give the note to the young lady at this table.” The waitress followed Trevor across the room.

“What is it?” Alyson asked as she joined him on the sidewalk in front of the diner. “What does it say?”

“Get your coat. We’re leaving.” Trevor handed the waitress a couple of ten-dollar bills to cover their meal.

Following Alyson inside, he grabbed a notepad from the cashier’s counter and jotted down his name and cell phone number. “If this guy comes in here again see if you can get his name, then give me a call at this number. It’s very important we find out who he is.”

“Okay, sure.”

Trevor grabbed Alyson’s hand and started walking quickly toward the car.

“What is it? What did the note say?”

“Get in. I’ll tell you on the way home.”

“Trevor, you’re scaring me.” Alyson buckled her seat belt as Trevor gunned the engine and sped toward her house.

“The note is a warning.” Trevor handed it to her.

The note was written in red ink. It said
Mind your own business or suffer the consequences.

Alyson read the note again, then glanced at Trevor. “Who do you think wrote it?”

“My best guess is that someone doesn’t want us to find Barkley’s heir. I think we should go to the cops,” Trevor said.

“No! I mean, I really don’t think that’s necessary. If this guy is willing to risk public exposure to give me a note we must be getting close. I really want to solve this mystery. If we go to the police that will pretty much put an end to our investigation.”

“But your life might be in danger. Let’s not forget about the break-in. I think continuing with our own search might be dangerous. I’m sure the cops will follow up on the information we’ve uncovered so far.”

“Trevor, please. I really want to finish this. I’ll be careful. I promise.”

“Okay,” Trevor reluctantly agreed, “we won’t do anything tonight, but you have to tell your mom about everything that’s going on, including the note.”

“Okay, I will. I wonder how this guy even knows we’ve been looking for an heir. I mean, we haven’t told anyone what we’re doing.”

“Whoever broke in the other day must have been watching us. He must have found out we talked to Ben Wilson. We must be getting close. Be sure to lock the house up tight and keep your cell phone by your bed. If you hear anything—anything at all, the slightest little noise—you call me, no matter what time it is.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow. And remember, talk to your mom.”

Alyson got out of Trevor’s car and let herself into the darkened house. Her mom had been working hard and must have already gone to bed. Tomorrow would be soon enough to talk to her.

“So, how’s your studio coming along?” Alyson asked the next morning as she devoured the stack of pancakes her mom had set before her.

“Actually, I haven’t even started working on it. The contractor I hired to fix the attic stairs said he’d give me a quote on putting in some large picture windows. He hasn’t gotten back to me yet. Besides, I really wanted to get the bedrooms done first.”

“I peeked into your room earlier. I love the way you did the curtains. Where’d you ever get the idea to drape them that way?”

“I’ve seen paintings from around the turn of the century with drapes hung in a similar fashion. I figured because we seem to have purchased such a majestic old house, we might as well decorate it in a way that honors its heritage.” Her mom poured an extra dollop of syrup over the remaining pancakes on her plate. “When I first started on the bedrooms I just wanted to make them somewhat livable, but now I’m really excited about decorating the rest of the house. Maybe we should work on clearing out the rest of the downstairs rooms this weekend. I spent part of the afternoon drawing some sketches of what each room might eventually look like and I can’t wait to get started.”

Alyson was happy to see her mom really getting in to the remodel project. Her face glowed as she continued to share her ideas for each room. It had been a long time since Alyson had seen her mother so happy, so long since her smile had reached her eyes the way it always had before the murder. So much had happened in the past year. For the first time in many months, Alyson felt she could see the first rays of light breaking through the darkness that had become their lives.

“. . . and after thinking about it, I decided earth tones with blue accents really would be best.”

“Sounds great, Mom.” Alyson realized she’d totally missed half of what her mom had said. “I’d better get to school. I’ll ask the gang if they can help out again on Saturday. There’s some pretty heavy-looking furniture in the bedroom off the kitchen.”

“I’m so glad you’ve made such good friends so quickly. I never did ask how your dinner was last night.”

Alyson hesitated. She’d promised Trevor, but her mom seemed so happy. She hated to ruin the mood. “It was great. We went to a cute little café downtown. They had really good food and a warm, cozy atmosphere. It felt like a real hometown locals’ place. The kind where, eventually, everyone knows your name.”

“We’ll have to try it sometime soon; maybe one night later this week. I’ve been so busy with the remodel I haven’t been in cooking mode, the past few days anyway.”

“Sure, whenever.” Alyson kissed her mom on the cheek as she got out of the car in front of the school.

“Should I pick you up at three, or are you doing something with your friends?”

“I’m not sure yet. Is it okay if I call to let you know?”

“Call my cell. I’ll keep it with me because I might not hear the downstairs phone ring if I’m working upstairs.”

“Okay, have a good day,” Alyson called.

Alyson hurried toward her first-period class, anxious to get some feedback from Mac on her computer search the day before. As with the previous morning, Chelsea was already seated at the table next to Trevor, so she guessed her inquiry would have to wait.

“So how ’bout it, Trev?” Chelsea was asking as Alyson sat down next to Mac.

“Chelsea wants to ride along with us to the dance on Saturday,” Mac filled Alyson in.

“Sure, why not?” Trevor answered.

Alyson wasn’t sure why Trevor didn’t tell Chelsea to buzz off instead of letting her push him around all the time, but it really wasn’t her problem and she had more important things to think about.

As with the previous morning, the time until lunch both flew by and dragged on interminably. As soon as the bell sounded, indicating the conclusion of fourth period and the beginning of lunch, Alyson grabbed Mac’s arm and hurried her toward the cafeteria.

“I thought fourth period would never end. I’ve been dying to tell you about our research in town yesterday,” Alyson began. “This no-sharing-information-until-lunch thing is killing me.”

“I know what you mean,” Mac sympathized, “But it’s only fair we share information when everyone is together.”

“Yeah, I get it. If I was the odd man out I wouldn’t want everyone else sharing info without me. Eli’s been a huge help and deserves to be in on the conversation. It’s just that patience has never been one of my virtues. Every time I try to be patient, I get tired of waiting and my good intentions fly right out the window. I usually end up doing something stupid or saying something out of turn.”

“Don’t worry.” Mac laughed, setting her lunch tray on the table already occupied by Trevor and Eli. “I’ll help you keep your virtue intact.”

“What’s this about virtue?” Trevor asked, suddenly interested in their conversation.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Mac teased.

“So can we talk about our research yesterday?” Alyson interrupted, anxious to get right to the point.

“Did you talk to your mom?” Trevor asked.

“Uh, not yet. She was asleep by the time I got home last night, and the timing didn’t seem right this morning,” Alyson answered.

“You promised,” Trevor reminded her.

“I know. I will.”

“Talk to your mom about what?” Mac asked.

Trevor filled Mac and Eli in on the note, the man who’d left it, and his opinion that Alyson should go to the cops.

“I have to agree with Trevor,” Mac responded. “I think you should go to the cops. You could be in real danger. If the guy with the note is the same person who broke in the other day he knows where you live.”

“I appreciate everyone’s concern, but I’d really like us to continue to pursue this on our own, at least for now,” Alyson insisted. “If we go to the cops they’ll probably put it on a back burner. We really don’t have any proof at all there even is an heir.”

“I guess that’s true,” Mac acknowledged.

“Did you guys find out anything yesterday that might help us prove our theory?” Eli asked.

Alyson filled the other two in on her and Trevor’s findings from the previous afternoon. “Of course we have no way of knowing for sure if Mary’s baby is Barkley’s illegitimate child, or where she might be now, but it’s a start.”

“I think our research can fill in a few blanks,” Mac interjected when Alyson finally stopped to take a breath. “I didn’t find a record anywhere of a child born to Mary Swanson. I did a pretty thorough records search from the local hospital, along with all other facilities within a hundred-mile radius. I also checked the county records to see if there was a birth certificate for any babies with the last name of Swanson or Cutter for the years between 1950 and 1970. Again, I drew a blank.” Mac leaned forward to emphasize her next point. “I did, however, find a death certificate for Mary Swanson issued in 1968.”

“The year the checks stopped,” Trevor observed.

“If Mary died, what happened to her child?” Alyson asked.

“I have no idea,” Mac said. “I tried to see if I could find any evidence of a child, but there are no records at all of anyone around the presumed age of the child in question with the last name of Swanson.”

“We checked school records, medical records, records for this county and the next one over, but we drew a complete blank,” Eli added.

“But Ben confirmed Mary did indeed have a child, so why the lack of a paper trail?” Trevor asked.

“He did say she moved away. Maybe she moved out of the area completely,” Alyson ventured.

“Is there any way to find out which bank the deductions from Barkley’s account were deposited into?” Trevor asked. “That might give us some indication of where she ended up.”

“Should be doable,” Mac answered. “After quite a few hours of surfing using Eli’s dad’s software, we managed to find out that the deposits into Barkley’s account came from a trust established at a bank in Portland. What’s even more interesting is that the deductions are still being drafted from the bank but haven’t been deposited in Barkley’s local account since he died.”

“So where’s the money going?” Trevor picked up a potato chip and plopped it into his mouth. “Sounds like someone might be getting rich off of old Barkley’s money. Seems to me that might be a pretty good reason for someone not to want a legitimate heir to be found.”

“We didn’t get that far, but Eli’s dad is gone all week, so we have time to work on it. We could look into the transaction from Barkley’s account into Mary’s at the same time.”

“I can check with some of my cyber buddies to see if any of them can give us additional ideas of things to try.” Eli took the first bite of his ham sandwich.

“We don’t want anyone else to know what we’re doing,” Alyson cautioned.

“Don’t worry; I’ll pose the question in a roundabout way without including any specifics. Besides, no one in my chat room knows who anyone else really is. We all have screen names and made-up identities.”

“Still,” Alyson said, “it seems chat buddies with the level of expertise we’re talking about probably have a way of getting around the whole secret screen name thing. There must be a way to trace an online identity to its owner if you know what you’re doing.”

“I’m sure there probably is, but the computers in our house are equipped with state-of-the-art security software that hasn’t even hit the market yet. No one’s getting past my dad’s security system, I promise.”

“Okay.” Alyson relaxed. “So let’s review our strategy. Mac is going to follow up on the bank accounts to see if she can identify the source and destination of any transactions related to Mary or Barkley’s account in general. It would be interesting to know who originally set up the trust and who’s been controlling it since Barkley died. Someone or some institution must have become the appointed executor in the absence of any known heirs.”

“And what about Barkley’s local account?” Eli inquired. “If ten thousand dollars a month was deposited into it for let’s say eighty years, there must be a huge balance. It seems he lived fairly frugally.”

“That’s true.” Alyson hadn’t considered that. “The bank ledger I found listed a series of transactions, but no beginning or ending balances. I didn’t have time to do a thorough search, but the only deductions I came across, other than a few hundred dollars a month for utilities and supplies from the market, were the deposits into Mary’s account, and those only lasted for thirteen years. I’ll check further tonight.”

“I can search the archives of the local newspaper to see if I can come up with any old articles relating to Mary,” Eli volunteered. “Even if there isn’t a birth announcement, there might be an obituary. Do you want to come by later to help out?” Eli asked Trevor. 

“Actually, I may have found Alyson a puppy. How about it, Aly? Want to go check him out this afternoon?”

“Really? What kind of puppy?”

“He’s a ten-month-old champion-bred German shepherd. The family of a guy in my history class breeds them. They have a pup they were holding for someone on the East Coast, but the deal fell through for some reason, and the dog’s available. He’s already been house and basic obedience trained, which is a bonus. He’s also going to be huge, and his father is a working police dog, so hopefully the pup will have inherited his daddy’s protective instincts. After last night I’ll feel a lot better if you have a big ferocious dog in the house. I can take you over to see him after school if you want.”

“I’d love to. Do you want to come along, Mac?”

“Why not? It’ll be fun. Who doesn’t welcome a chance to play with puppies?”

Alyson called her mom before going to PE to confirm that it was still okay if she got a puppy. After getting her mom’s approval she arranged to meet Trevor in the parking lot after computer class because Trevor didn’t have football practice that day. Mac decided it would be easiest to pick her up from her computer internship on the way out to see the pup. As far as Alyson was concerned, three o’clock couldn’t get there soon enough.

The ride out to Trevor’s friend’s house only took about ten minutes, but Alyson asked three times if they were almost there.

“You really
don’t
have much patience,” Mac commented after the third inquiry.

“Sorry.” Alyson snapped her gum. “I’m just superexcited.” She fidgeted in her seat. “I didn’t think I would be. I mean, at least not this excited.” She snapped her gum again and twirled her hair around her finger for the hundredth time. “Before you suggested I get one, I didn’t even know I wanted a dog.” She turned to stare out the window. “Weird, huh?”

They arrived at their destination before Alyson wore a hole in Trevor’s seat with all her squirming around. “This is Tucker,” Trevor introduced her to the dark-haired boy who greeted them. “This is Alyson and Mac,” he added, gesturing to each in turn. “Alyson’s the one interested in the pup.”

“Good to meet you both,” Tucker said. “The pup’s in the house.” He led the way toward a very neat, white ranch-style farmhouse with dark green shutters.

“Tucker,” he called after walking into the house.

“You named your dog after yourself?” Alyson questioned.

“My brother did,” Tucker responded, as Tucker the dog bounded energetically into the room. “As a pup, Tucker tended to be the most boisterous of the litter, barking incessantly at anything that moved. One day my brother said, ‘that dog’s always sounding off, just like Tucker,’ and unfortunately, in spite of my best attempts to the contrary, the name stuck.”