A lethal legacy, p.6
A Lethal Legacy, page 6
It might have been a random selection of lines.
Or, it might have been the word aliens.
“Aliens,” she repeated again.
“You see it?”
“I do.”
“Or, did I suggest it?”
“Yes, you suggested it. But I see it. So, neither of us believes that UFOs visit us—”
“But people do believe it. There are all kinds of theories, and supposed eyewitness testimonials. It’s all a matter of conviction. And I can’t begin to imagine what might have happened... Did Frank think that he was being attacked by aliens?”
Kieran shrugged, handing the phone back. “I don’t know.”
He set the phone on the dresser, turned and took her into his arms. “Maybe you should come back into the city with me when I head to the autopsy tomorrow.”
“Because...you’re afraid aliens will get me?” she asked skeptically.
“Funny, no. Remember, perception is nine-tenths of the law, or something like that.”
“Pretend aliens might be on the island.”
“Kieran...three people we know about were here—other than Frank. I do believe that Frank was murdered. I don’t like you being here without me.”
“Danny is here.”
“Danny—who admits he likes being next to the FBI guy with the gun.”
Kieran hesitated a moment. “Craig, you’re going to go to an autopsy. Then you’re going to have to ask Egan to support you and maybe Mike to work with you, too. I think you’re going to be extremely busy, and if I’m here, on the island, I can watch the three people who are probably the main suspects. Nothing is going to happen tomorrow. Finn wants you here—Margie and Elayne both want to believe that Frank did fall. We’ll be fine.”
“Others are coming in tomorrow,” he reminded her.
“Workers—who weren’t here when Frank died.”
“Not that we know about.”
“Craig, it will be okay. I promise. And, seriously, you know it.”
He was quiet, and then he pulled her against him.
“No exploring,” he said.
“That’s hard to promise—it’s an exploration to get from the dining room to the kitchen.”
“Not funny. No delving into caves without me.”
“No spelunking without you. Danny has maps. We’ll do all our exploring with them just to get some idea of the structure of the island and where to go. Where Frank might have been. Okay?”
He nodded after a moment.
“Think we ought to get some sleep?” she asked softly.
He nodded again. He suddenly lifted her up and laid her back down, sliding into bed beside her. She curled against him.
Then she pushed up so suddenly that she startled him.
“What?” he asked.
“The lights! Craig, I could swear I saw weird lights out there—on the cliffs.”
“Like alien spacecraft?” he asked.
She punched his shoulder lightly. “No,” she said softly. “Like someone out at night who shouldn’t be.”
“Maybe,” he said quietly. “Kieran, we just discussed—”
“I’ve got it, honestly. Stick close to Danny. No exploring in the caves. Be careful. I know the drill, Craig, come on, please.”
“You always seem to manage to get yourself into trouble.”
“And so do you!”
“I’m supposed to get into trouble,” he protested.
“Well, I won’t get into trouble tomorrow, I promise.”
“Famous last words,” he murmured.
She decided to let it go. Curling against him, she closed her eyes again. She tried to sleep, and she wasn’t at all uncomfortable. She was fine, wherever she was, in his arms.
Still, she couldn’t help but imagine saucer-shaped spacecraft flying around the island.
But in her mind, they weren’t occupied by little green men. They were filled with the ghosts of the Knights Templar, seeking a place to hide the Ark of the Covenant.
* * *
“You’re calling me on a Sunday. Party or dinner invite?” Richard Egan asked Craig dryly.
“Well, you always have a dinner invite,” Craig said. He hesitated. Egan was one of the best directors in the FBI, as far as he was concerned. He ran his agents from his desk, but he had decades of experience, and he wasn’t against becoming hands-on when necessary.
He also listened to his agents, and when they came to him with cases that might go well with federal assistance, he always at least gave it thought.
“Yes, thanks. Easy enough when you’re involved with a family who happen to own a pub,” Egan said. “Let me guess. You’re out on Douglas Island.”
Technically, Craig was no longer on Douglas Island. A boat had come in to drop off a number of Finn’s new employees and workers. He’d hitched a ride back in to Brooklyn, where Mike would be waiting to pick him up.
“You heard about the death on Douglas Island?” Craig asked.
“A fall.” He could hear Egan sigh. “Except you don’t believe it’s a fall. And you’re related to the Douglas family.”
“I’m related to Finn Douglas. But I don’t think that I ever told you—”
“Please. I’ve been with the FBI for decades.” Even over the phone, Egan sounded pleased with himself.
“Anyway, you’re all set. The NYPD detective on this is Teddy Brice. Nice guy. He says that it’s pretty clear that Frank Landon took a fall, but if you want to investigate further, he’s happy to have you take lead. He’s also on the murder of a drug lord out in Brooklyn, and it’s taking up his attention.”
“Great.”
“You’re heading to the autopsy? Keep me up to date.”
“Will do.”
“Maybe you can find the bank robbers’ stash. Or something else.” Egan was quiet for a minute; Craig almost thought that he’d hung up. “Maybe you’ll solve a cold case, too.”
“Thanks, Egan,” Craig told him. The director did hang up.
Twenty minutes later, he was on shore—and Mike Dalton, Craig’s partner agent, was waiting right at the dock. He was dressed for work in his blue suit. Craig was still in a polo shirt and jeans, but at least he had a leather jacket.
Mike was about a decade older than Craig, and usually looked like he’d seen it all before and wasn’t impressed by any of it.
“Leave it to you to find a way to work on a Sunday,” Mike said.
“Sorry.”
“Not a problem. You were missed at Finnegan’s last night. Declan hired a kick-ass band. Gaelic rock. Pretty cool.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
“Kieran’s still out there?”
“Danny is with her—and the boat that picked me up delivered a bunch of people—housekeeper, workers... In truth, my cousin is a good guy.”
“Didn’t murder his friend, huh?”
Craig glared at him.
“Hey, you know we’ve got to ask the question.”
Craig nodded.
“Well, I don’t get out on private islands owned by the über-rich that often.”
They reached the car. Mike tossed Craig the keys. They’d been partners a long time—Mike knew Craig preferred to drive, and he didn’t care in the least.
As they drove, Craig caught Mike up on what he knew—and what he didn’t know.
He tossed him his phone so that he could see what had appeared to him to be the word aliens scratched into the sand.
“He was killed by aliens?” Mike said doubtfully. “That would be a new one—bizarre. Even for New York City.”
“I don’t think he was killed by aliens—but it does make me wonder who else has been on the island.”
“How could uninvited guests get out there without being seen?”
“It’s only recently that anyone has actually been on the island for any extended amount of time. At first, I guess the Douglas family saw the island as a possible home—they built the big old house. But bad things happened. Family tragedy, that kind of thing. Finn’s father hates the place—and that’s probably why he gave it to Finn with carte blanche to do with it as he would. Finn is a good businessman—he can be trusted. But do I think that people have a colony living out there—no. But I do think that they know how to come and go. I thought it was really important to get to the autopsy first—find out exactly how he died. Then, we can head back out to the island. Oh, I have to stop by Kieran’s apartment. Get some things. We hadn’t intended to stay out there.”
“Whatever. Do I get to pack, too?”
“You want to stay out there?”
“Hell, yes!”
Craig was grateful it was a Sunday as they maneuvered the streets from Brooklyn into Manhattan. Of course, it was New York; there was traffic, but not the kind to be found on a weekday. Mike warned him there was an Italian parade scheduled for certain areas and Craig gratefully avoided them. In twenty minutes they arrived at the downtown morgue.
They were known there, and quickly ushered in. The autopsy was already well under way. The medical examiner that day was Dr. Griffin Hodges. Craig knew him—and liked him. He worked with facts, and would also explain what those facts could mean, helpful to law enforcement without trying to play Sherlock Holmes.
“Poor fellow, hell of a mess,” Hodges told them. “I’ve never seen so many broken bones.”
Frank Landon lay on a stainless steel table, looking nothing like a human being. The Y incision had already been made; Hodges had been in the middle of weighing the heart when they arrived.
Frank looked like a child’s rag doll that had been painted red and put through a wringer. Blood had been washed away, but his many gaping wounds and slashes were an ugly shade of crimson.
Detective Teddy Brice arrived as Hodges continued his examination.
Brice was about forty, medium in height and stature, with dark brown, close-cropped hair and a lean face, worn for his years. He greeted Craig and Mike with a grim smile. “This guy really took a physical beating. But I hear you were out there already—you’re related to the Douglas family?”
“Finn is a cousin,” Craig said briefly.
“He was really broken up about it, too. I’m sorry. My guys went up the cliffs. We did what we could. I would have closed this as an accidental death, but...from my point of view, it’s all yours.” He hesitated. “But naturally, keep me informed if you do find something.”
“Absolutely,” Craig promised him.
The autopsy went on.
“His injuries are consistent with a fall from a great height, right?” Brice asked.
“Could be,” Hodges said.
“But?” Craig asked.
Hodges glanced at his assistant. “Would you close him up, please?” he asked. “This was a relatively young man in perfect health—great heart, liver, all organs. Didn’t abuse drugs or alcohol, ate well—and kept fit. But he was truly broken to bits. Let’s move over to the X-rays.”
They followed him to the wall near the body where screens showed X-rays of the body in several positions. “Head bashed, limbs...well, you can see. They’re broken everywhere.”
“Which could have resulted from a fall,” Brice said.
Craig offered, “Otherwise someone being severely beaten?”
Hodges hesitated. “Yes,” he said. “The way the bones are broken...”
“Maybe someone used a bat,” Mike suggested.
“I’ve ordered some tests, but the only residue on the body was rock and sand,” Hodges said. “From what I understand, the body was found on the rocky shore at the base of the cliffs.”
“Or,” Craig said, “he could have been beaten to death with a large rock.”
Hodges gave that some thought. “Yes, I would say that’s a possibility.”
* * *
“Smith. John Smith,” Kieran said.
“Sounds like a made-up name,” Danny said. He grinned. “The kind a guy would use when he was checking into a hotel with a mystery woman, huh?”
“Danny, it’s a very common name, and has been, I imagine, since the colonies were begun. Remember, John Smith and Pocahontas?”
“I do, of course. Knew them well,” Danny teased. “She didn’t marry John Smith, you know. She married John Rolfe. And had their son, Thomas Rolfe.”
“But she did save John Smith.”
“So the legend goes.”
“The point is that it is a legitimate name. The man probably really is John Smith.”
“Still sounds made-up to me!”
Kieran sighed softly.
She’d slept late. Craig was long gone into the city and she hadn’t even been downstairs yet. She’d showered again and dressed in the same clothing she’d been wearing the day before—very uncomfortable, but then again, she had no choice.
Danny had already been downstairs. People were milling in. Finn’s housekeeper had come.
Breakfast had been very good, he assured her.
She forgave him for any implication that it had been better than last night’s dinner because he’d brought her a huge cup of steaming coffee.
“Sure,” Danny said, reflecting on the name. “And the Smith who wrote the article on the Ark of the Covenant possibly coming to Douglas Island is supposed to be some kind of a scholar, so I guess you couldn’t go changing your name through years of university and all that. You want to see him?”
“I do.”
“Let’s go.”
“You make everything sound so easy. We just show up on his doorstep?”
“It’s better to act and ask forgiveness sometimes.”
“Um. That’s been your motto a few times too many.”
“And it’s worked most of them.” He grinned at her. “Actually, there’s a fellow who works part-time as a tour guide because he just loves it. In real life he’s a professor at Columbia. He knows John Smith. I already contacted him. You want to go?”
She stared at him, stunned. “Wow. Your finagling charm and curiosity about everyone you come in contact with seems to finally be paying off. Do you have a plan for finding out where Smith lives and getting to him as well?”
“Indeed, I do!” Danny said. “I talked to Finn this morning. He’s got a boat and a captain at our disposal. Smith lives on the Upper East Side, close to the Museum of Natural History. The boat pops us over to Brooklyn, and there...”
“There?”
“Taxi or subway, your choice. At that junction, I’m out of friends.”
Kieran grinned and gave him a big hug.
“Let’s go on down,” she said. In Kieran’s mind, everything seemed changed from the night before, with the sunshine and the arrival of new people. A woman was crossing the great hall floor when they reached the bottom of the stairs, and she smiled pleasantly.
“Good morning!” She extended a hand. “I’m Evie. Evie Summers. I’ve been with Finn...well, a long time. I was in his dad’s household and when Finn moved on up and out...” She paused, shrugging. “Anyway, pleased to have you, Kieran.”
Kieran shook her hand. Evie was small, maybe five-three. She was probably in her early fifties. She didn’t color her hair—it was a steel gray held firmly in control by a bun at the back of her neck. Kieran had a feeling most things she could keep in control were held just as firmly.
“I know all about you,” Evie said.
“Oh?”
“Danny was the only one down for breakfast,” Evie said. “We had a lovely chat.”
“Oh. And where are the others now?” Kieran asked, not sure if she should give her brother a kick or a thank-you.
“I brought Margie a tray earlier,” Evie said. “Finn and Elayne are in their room.”
“I see,” Kieran murmured.
“But I—along with Victor Eider, the groundskeeper I guess you’d call him—are always at your disposal. We’re so grateful you’re out here to support Finn. Anyway, can I get you anything?”
Kieran should have said yes. She should have been starving. But she’d had the coffee Danny had brought up, and more than anything, she wanted to go meet John Smith.
Lunch later would do.
“I’m fine, thank you. Danny brought me coffee. He and I are leaving the island for a bit, but we’ll be back.”
“I’ll see that your rooms are refreshed.”
Kieran didn’t think that she personally did the “refreshing.” The actual housekeepers who did the cleaning part were still on the way.
“Lovely meeting you, Evie,” Danny said brightly, and they headed out.
“What do you think of her? She was more friendly over breakfast. Think she likes me better?” Danny asked, laughing as they went down to the dock.
“Hmm. If I had to analyze her, I’d say she sees other women as a threat. Wonder how she’s managing with Elayne?” Kieran said.
“Interesting. The plot thickens.”
Kieran shook her head. “That would be melodrama. We’re in the middle of a murder mystery.”
“Or sci-fi.”
“You saw Craig this morning?”
“Briefly. He still doesn’t want to share the picture that might say the word aliens that might have been etched in the sand by Frank Landon before he died.” He looked at Kieran curiously. “You don’t think that aliens did it, right?”
“Danny, what in your years of knowing me would lead you to think that I believe in little green men?”
“They don’t have to be green.”
“Of course not. I do believe there is other life in the universe, though not necessarily sentient. Some kind of bacteria probably exists on Mars. I do not believe that Frank Landon was killed by bacteria.”
Danny was silent as they approached the waiting boat.
“Danny?”
“I don’t believe in little green men. But there are many, many people who do believe that maybe ancient aliens did come to Earth. Educated people.”
