Hide Yourself Away (33 page)

“Look closer,” Grace instructed. “See that man’s hand? The one that’s caressing the woman’s rear end?”

“Yeah. Big deal.”

“Well, if you had a magnifying glass, you’d see the man’s cuff link is in the shape of a sundial. That’s the same sundial design that sits in the garden at Shepherd’s Point, the same sundial design of Charlotte Sloane’s earrings. Those are the same cuff links that Oliver Sloane is wearing tonight.”

“And you know all this how?” B.J. asked.

“It’s a long story, B.J.,” Grace hurried on. “But you can go outside and see the cuff links on Oliver yourself if you don’t believe me.”

“I believe you, Grace. Of course, I believe you.” B.J. looked at the photo again. “Fine, this is Oliver’s Sloane’s cuff link I’m looking at. It doesn’t mean he killed his wife.”

“Yes,” said Grace, “but that’s his wife at the front of the room at the podium. So his hand is on another woman’s backside.”

B.J. smiled. “Okay, so Oliver fooled around. That doesn’t make him a killer, either. It’s too easy to divorce your wife—he wouldn’t have had to murder Charlotte.”

“I know who the other woman is, B.J.”

He looked at Grace expectantly. “Well?”

“See that large bow on the back of the dress in the photograph?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I just looked at the video that was taken at the fund-raiser
fourteen years ago. The woman wearing that dress was a young Elsa Gravell.”

“The woman chairing this event tonight?” B.J. asked, already knowing the answer.

“Exactly,” said Grace. “And Charlotte Sloane’s best friend.”

B.J. shrugged. “Okay, so Elsa’s a louse and Oliver’s a cheat, but that still doesn’t mean either one of them killed Charlotte. And it’s certainly hard to believe that Oliver would go on to murder his own daughter—if Madeleine’s death
was
a murder, that is.”

“I still think I should go to the police with this,” said Grace, undeterred. “Can I borrow your cell phone, please?”

The mansion’s thick limestone walls made a phone connection difficult, so Grace went outside.

Beneath the canopy of leaves, Grace called the police station.

“Detective Manzorella is at another location.”

“But I have something important to tell him.”

“I can take a message for you, ma’am.”

Grace hesitated, but she wanted to get the information off her chest. “All right,” she agreed. “Tell him that Grace Callahan called. Tell him that I have an old photograph that I think could help him identify who killed Charlotte Sloane and the others. Here’s my beeper number.”

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127

When Detective Manzorella arrived at the hospital, the nurse forewarned him. “He’s quite groggy. He doesn’t remember anything after arriving at The Breakers on Sunday night,” she said. “He doesn’t remember being struck on the head, much less if he saw anyone attack him.”

“Think it’ll come back to him?” the detective asked with impatience.

“It’s hard to say. His mind has blocked it out. Sam is protecting himself.”

The inconclusive answer didn’t satisfy Al. “I want to see him for myself.”

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128

The lifestyle correspondent had pulled herself away from her flirting and socializing long enough to conduct the interviews they needed for the piece in the morning. B.J. had audio and video of the fund-raiser’s chairwoman, Elsa Gravell, talking about the importance of the effort to save Rhode Island’s endangered seabirds, along with shots of the caterers serving the sumptuous feast and sound bites from their boss, Mickey Hager, the proud owner of Seasons Catering.

Several party guests had been interviewed as well, but B.J. thought it a good idea to get one or two more before they headed back to the Viking to cut the piece. As luck would have it, he approached a couple named Frank and Jan Callahan and asked if they would be willing to be interviewed by Lauren Adams. They readily agreed.

“This will be on tomorrow morning?” Jan asked with enthusiasm as the interview was completed.

“Yes. I can’t promise that your sound bites will be picked, though,” said B.J.

“Oh, I hope you’ll use us.” Jan pouted.

Her husband intervened. “You know, my ex-wife works on your show,” he boasted. “Grace Callahan. Does she hold any sway?”

B.J. instantly paid more attention to this interview subject, sweeping Frank’s muscular physique with his eyes. So this was the man Grace had chosen to marry and have a child with. Physically impressive but instantly unlikable as far as B.J. was concerned. And that was Grace’s daughter standing to the side watching, thought B.J., recognizing the girl who had come into the newsroom to greet Grace the other day. Cute kid. She looked a lot like her mother, though B.J. could see the father’s genes there, too.

“Grace holds more sway than you can imagine,” B.J. answered.

As the newsman asked Frank and Jan to spell their names for the identifying supers that would be flashed beneath their pictures if their images were chosen, the girl grew bored. With the adults engrossed in their tasks, it was easy for Lucy to slip away.

  CHAPTER  
129

“Elsa, can we go home now? I’ve had enough.”

“But I’m the chair of the event, Oliver. I really should stay until the very end.”

“Well, I’m leaving.” He was firm. “I’ll send the driver back for you.”

Elsa looked at her beloved’s strained face. He had been brave to come here tonight. She mustn’t let him down.

“No, dear, don’t do that. I’ll leave with you in a few minutes. You just go ahead to the car. I’ll finish saying my good nights and be right behind you.”

  CHAPTER  
130

Detective Manzorella cursed the dispatcher for not getting Grace Callahan’s message to him sooner. He beeped Grace from his cell phone as he raced back to The Elms. If she had evidence that could solve the Charlotte Sloane case, he wasn’t going to wait until morning to get it.

  CHAPTER  
131

The party was breaking up. Grace gazed from the top of the lawn as the guests strolled up the gentle slope to the mansion and the cars waiting for them out front. B.J. was having a last exchange with the satellite operator about tomorrow morning’s
broadcast. Lauren was engrossed in conversation with a handsome male. It was time to call it a night.

As she turned to find Lucy, she heard the faint beeping coming from her clutch bag. She took out the beeper and checked the number but didn’t recognize it.

Grace still had B.J.’s cell phone. She flipped it open and tapped the numbers on the keypad.

The deep voice answered. “Manzorella.”

“Oh, great, it’s you, Detective. I wasn’t sure about the number on my beeper.”

“I’m using the phone in my wife’s car,” he explained. “What’s up? The dispatcher gave me your message. Something about a photograph?”

“Yes. It was taken at the country club the night Charlotte Sloane disappeared. I’ve compared it to some old videotape of the fund-raising event, and between the two, I think it will help identify Charlotte’s murderer.”

“Where are you?” Grace heard the urgency in the detective’s voice.

“At the top of the lawn, near the service entrance.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes, Grace. Wait right where you are.”

  CHAPTER  
132

It was amazing how careless people were on their cell phones. Holding private conversations right out in the open. Just because they didn’t see you listening didn’t mean you hadn’t heard every word they said.

Mickey stood beneath the canopy of leaves that sheltered the path into the service entrance and waited for the tightness in his chest to lessen.

Tonight had been a triumph, the Ball Bleu a resounding success. Some of the guests had taken his business card, raving about the evening and inquiring about his availability for future events. Elsa Gravell was so pleased that she had stopped on her way out to tell him that she would be using Seasons Catering for the fund-raiser next year.

He should have been ecstatic, but he wasn’t. His history with Charlotte Sloane continued to haunt him. There was no getting away from it. No matter how successful he became, the victory was bitter.

  CHAPTER  
133

Something was wrong.

As she waited for Detective Manzorella to arrive, Grace spotted Frank and Jan walking up the lawn together. Lucy wasn’t with them.

Grace walked the few yards down to meet the couple.

“Where’s Lucy, Frank?”

Her former husband looked at her with confusion.

“Isn’t she with you? I thought she had wandered off to be with you.”

“No! Damn it, Frank. You were supposed to be watching her.” Grace wanted to slap him.

“What’s the problem?” Detective Manzorella asked, trying not to show that he was out of breath after his run from the parking lot.

Grace turned to the detective, feeling a bit of relief. “My daughter is missing.”

“Our
daughter,” Frank corrected her. “And don’t be so dramatic, Grace. Lucy isn’t missing. I’m sure she’s around here somewhere. She’s probably just exploring the place.”

“She better be, Frank,” Grace said, trying to hold her anger in check. “If anything happens to her…” Her voice trailed off. The thought was too much to even allow herself to consider now.

They were only wasting time bickering.

They had to find Lucy.

They fanned out to search the property, enlisting B.J. and Lauren to help. Grace’s instincts told her that Lucy would head for the mansion. Her daughter would be curious about a home like The Elms, so unlike anything Lucy had been exposed to before this week in Newport, and she’d been especially interested in the tunnel. Still, the property was expansive, with lush plantings, providing places for Lucy to hide or, in a worst-case scenario, places for a murderer to stash a young body.

Every foot of the grounds had to be inspected. They needed more help.

It was as if Detective Manzorella had read her mind. Grace was profoundly thankful as she heard him take control, giving assignments, telling each of them where they should search.

“I’m going to call for backup, Grace,” he reassured her. “Don’t worry. We’ll find your daughter.”