Lost and Found (24 page)

The garden was alive with kids and the two family dogs. The noise level was high. On the far side of the lawn, Cady, dressed in jeans and a white open-neck shirt, assisted Sylvia and Leandra in serving cake and neoncolored punch. Even from here he could see how much she was enjoying herself. Her face was bright with laughter as she handed a paper cup to a young boy.

Gardner came to stand beside him. He glanced at the unfinished birthday cake on the plate. “You don’t have to eat it, you know. There’s a big trash can right around the corner of the house. Be easy to make the whole thing disappear with no one the wiser.”

“I can do birthday cake.” Mack watched a group of youngsters playing with one of the gifts that the twins had unwrapped earlier. “I’ve had some practice.”

Gardner nodded. “Right. Your daughter. You said she was at Santa Cruz?”

“Finishing up her first year.” Mack forked up a bite of cake, wondering if he was in for another round of interrogation. “Wants a career in art history.”

Gardner glanced toward the dark-haired twin boys on the opposite side of the garden. His mouth curved slightly with rueful pride. “Lucky you. We who are still dealing with eight-year-olds can only dream about our future freedom.”

“Got news for you,” Mack said around a mouthful of cake, “college isn’t free.”

“Heard that.” Gardner chuckled. “I’ve already informed Luke and Thomas that it would be a really smart idea for them to put together a nice little on-line start-up company before they graduate from high school. I’ll handle the technical details of the initial public offering for them. No charge. Take my commission in stock options, of course. When they’re nineteen-year-old multizillionaires, they can put themselves through college.”

“Sounds like a plan. Good luck.”

“Thanks. Unfortunately, Luke is convinced he was cut out to be an archeologist and Thomas says he wants to become an accountant like his old man. Neither profession is known for turning out a lot of multizillionaires.”

“Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you. But they’re only eight, right? You’ve still got time to make them see the light.”

Gardner munched cake and watched one of the twins charge off in pursuit of a ball. “Doing my best.”

Mack thought about past birthday parties he had attended. “In the end, all you really want is for them to be happy.”

Gardner nodded. “Yeah. In the end, that’s what you want for them.”

Mack was about to respond when he noticed a familiar figure walk out of the house onto the terrace. “Looks like you’ve got a late arrival.

“Well, well. Good old Uncle Randall. Wondered when he’d show up.”

Mack studied the towering stack of gaily wrapped presents that Randall carried. Shouts of excitement echoed across the terrace garden. The twins and their party guests changed course and dashed toward the newcomer.

“Uncle Randall, Uncle Randall.”

Randall dropped the mountain of gifts on a table and stood back grinning as Luke and Thomas tore into the
stack. The other youngsters gathered eagerly around to view the goodies.

“Whatever is in those packages, you can bet it will include the must-have games, toys and books of the moment,” Gardner said. “Good old Uncle Randall always knows what’s hot and what’s not.”

“You don’t like Post very much, I take it?”

“What irritates me,” Gardner said, “is the way he acts as if he’s a member of the family. Stick around a while, you’ll see what I mean. He thinks he’s got a special relationship with Sylvia and Cady because the three of them grew up together.”

Across the garden, Randall had left the kids to the pile of presents. He was making his way to the table where Sylvia, Cady and Leandra were dispensing cake and punch.

Mack watched him give each of the women a familiar hug and a kiss. Cady was the last one in line. It looked to Mack as though Randall gave her a little extra squeeze.

“You’re right,” Mack said. “It is damn irritating.”

“Better get used to it. If you intend to marry into this family, you get Post as part of the package, whether you like him or not.”

“I’ll keep that in mind. You said he grew up with Cady and Sylvia?”

“His mother was an alcoholic. Father died when he was in his teens. Jocelyn Post married Felgrove. It was not a good situation. The Briggs family, especially Vesta, felt sorry for Randall. Sort of adopted him.” Gardner grimaced. “Now we’re all stuck with him.”

“I guess that will be even more true if the merger goes through,” Mack said evenly.

“Afraid so. Try to think of him as the brother-in-law you wish you never had. Everyone has one of those. Randall Post is ours.”

“I’m not sure I can take the philosophical approach here. The guy was married to Cady for a while, after all.”

Gardner gave him a look of mild surprise. “I wouldn’t worry about that too much, if I were you.”

“No?”

“Sylvia says they never even made it into bed. Apparently they decided on their wedding night that the marriage was a mistake. Hell, I could have told them it wouldn’t work. If it hadn’t been for Vesta and the rest of the family pushing so hard, I think they would have come to their senses before they went through with the ceremony.”

Two could play the interrogation game, Mack decided. “Cady mentioned that her aunt was very much in favor of the marriage.

“Vesta always took a special interest in Randall. I could never figure it out, to tell you the truth. Knowing her though, it probably had something to do with her long-term goal of merging the two galleries. That woman lived for Chatelaine’s.”

“People say that Cady takes after her,” Mack said neutrally.

“Bullshit.”

“Succinctly put.”

Gardner shrugged. “There is a certain physical resemblance. If you look at old photos of Vesta, you can see that. But as far as I could tell, the only thing Cady and Vesta really had in common was an incredible eye for art and antiques. Sylvia told me once that it wasn’t until after Cady was diagnosed with a tendency toward panic attacks that people started talking about how she took after her aunt.”

“Cady said something about the panic attacks stemming from an accident in which she nearly drowned.”

“To this day, Cady hates to swim. She rarely puts on a
suit, and if she does, it’s only to dangle her feet in a pool. She won’t go into a lake or the ocean or any body of water where she can’t see the bottom. Panic city.”

“But she does know how to swim?”

“Well, she did when she was a kid, and they say you never forget. But as far as I know, she hasn’t done any swimming since the incident at the lake that summer. Sylvia says she’s got a real phobia. Sort of like a fear of flying, I guess. Gets very anxious even if she goes into a swimming pool. Has full-blown panic attacks if she gets beyond knee-deep water in a lake or the ocean.”

“What happened at the lake?”

“Cady’s folks took Cady, Sylvia and Randall camping. The three kids went swimming in a secluded cove one afternoon. What no one knew was that two nights earlier a car had gone off the road that ran along a cliff above the lake. It was a very sparsely populated area. No one had witnessed the crash.”

“In other words, no one knew the vehicle was in the lake?”

Gardner nodded. “The car wound up on the bottom in fairly shallow water. Sylvia told me that you couldn’t see it from the surface because the lake was so murky and there was a lot of vegetation growing in it that year.”

Mack winced. “Don’t tell me the kids found a body in the car?”

“Actually Cady was the one who discovered it. She was diving with a mask and snorkel. The dead guy was still in the front seat. Must have looked pretty bad.”

“After two days in the water?” Mack felt a cold chill go through him. “Must have looked like something out of a nightmare.”

“You bet. Traumatizing, to say the least. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the worst of it. Sylvia said that when Cady saw the body, she freaked and tried to get back to the surface. But one of her swim fins got tangled in a seat
belt that was floating out the front window of the vehicle. She had to get herself out of the fin before she could escape. When she did, she came in contact with the body. It was pretty gruesome and she almost didn’t make it.”

“Good God almighty.”

“She had nightmares for a long time. Sylvia says Cady used to wake up gasping for breath. The panic attacks were diagnosed a few years later when she was in college.”

“Not surprising.”

Gardner looked at the table where the three women were laughing at something Randall had just said to them. “Cady once told Sylvia that it was as if the dead man had reached out to grab her and pull her down into the car with him.”

A
t seven thirty that evening Mack stood with Cady in the window of Hattie Woods’s Nob Hill apartment and watched the fog swallow the lights of the city.

“I never grow tired of the view,” Hattie said behind them.

“I can understand why,” Mack said.

“I left L.A. the day I retired. Never could stand the place, to tell you the truth. Couldn’t wait to escape. Still, I can’t complain. The film business was good to me. Not all actresses can say that. Living in L.A. for all those years was the price I had to pay for a rewarding career.”

Mack studied her. “Were you by any chance in a film called
Dead End Street
?”

Hattie gave a soft ripple of laughter. “Don’t tell me you actually saw that disaster?”

“I watch late-night television when I have trouble sleeping.”

“I’ll bet
Dead End Street
put you out like a light.”

He smiled. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“It was ghastly.” Hattie sparkled up at him from the depths of a wingback chair.

He liked Hattie Woods, he decided. It was easy to see why she had gotten the character parts. Hattie was petite and vibrant but she lacked the facial bones that usually went with star-power beauty. She did, however, exude a certain charm that drew attention.

Her collection was also intriguing. The wall behind her was covered in floor-to-ceiling glass cases that contained an array of splendid timepieces. The clocks glowed and gleamed in all their unabashed Baroque and Neoclassical glory.

There were sumptuous eighteenth-century creations embellished with sweeping curves, finely detailed figures and enough gilt and gleaming bronze to light up a room. Nearby were ornate nineteenth-century devices that had been designed according to strict Palladian themes, miniature architectural masterpieces.

The clocks had been crafted in an age when they had been viewed as emblems of the perfect melding of art and science. Exquisitely made movements had been showcased in the finest cabinetry and metalwork. In addition to telling the time, many of the clocks also played music or delighted the eye with intricate scenes that appeared and disappeared when the hour was struck.

He could understand why, when she was younger, Cady had enjoyed visiting Hattie. He checked the time on one of the clocks, anticipating the cacophony that would ensue at eight o’clock.

“I was so sorry to hear of Vesta’s passing,” Hattie said to Cady. “When it came to art and antiques, I trusted her judgment completely. I shall miss her advice and counsel.”

Cady left the window and walked across the room to sit down on the edge of the sofa. “Aunt Vesta was one of a kind.”

“Perhaps not.” Hattie winked. “She told me that you take after her in many ways. I think it gave her great satisfaction.”

Mack saw Cady’s hand tighten around her sherry glass.

“I’ve been told that my aunt and I did have some things in common,” she said. “But we were actually quite different in many ways.”

“Well, no two people are exactly alike, are they?” Hattie responded.

“No,” Cady said crisply. “They are not.”

“Shall we get down to business?” Hattie took a dainty sip from her glass of sherry. “You must have a number of questions, my dear.”

“Yes, I do.” Cady sounded grateful for the change of subject. “For starters, please tell us what in the world is going on. What made Aunt Vesta take an interest in Jonathan Arden?”

“She suspected he was a charlatan, of course. All that ridiculous nonsense about his gift for psychometry. She wanted to prove that he was a fraud.”

“But what brought him to her attention?”

“Arden made the mistake of conning one of your aunt’s oldest clients, a gentleman who, I’m sorry to say, has fallen victim to Alzheimer’s. Arden suckered him into purchasing a chair that was supposedly late eighteenth century.”

“How did Vesta find out what had happened?”

“One of the gentleman’s money-grubbing heirs approached her. Asked her how much she thought the chair would fetch at auction.” Hattie sniffed. “The wretch didn’t even have the decency to wait until the nearly departed had become the dearly departed.”

“Aunt Vesta examined the chair and realized it was a fraud?”

“Exactly. She made a few discreet inquiries and discovered that Arden had pulled the same scam on three or four other wealthy seniors in recent months. It infuriated her.”

“So she set out to expose him?” Cady asked.

“Yes. At first she tried to do it on her own. She made an appointment, using a different name. She claimed that she had been referred to Arden by the gentleman who had bought the chair. But her acting wasn’t up to the task. Vesta Briggs did not do dithery very convincingly, I’m afraid.”

“Arden was suspicious of her?”

“Apparently. She took one of her lovely little boxes to him. Claimed that she had found it in the attic and wanted to know if it was valuable. He refused to give an opinion. Blathered on about how he couldn’t get a reading on the thing. She made a second appointment, intending to ask for his opinion of a cabinet she was considering. When she arrived at his apartment, he told her that he had to cancel and that he was not accepting any more clients at that time.”

Mack stirred slightly. “Think Arden knew who she was?”

“Perhaps.” Hattie moved one shoulder in a graceful little shrug. “If he did know that she was the head of Chatelaine’s, however, he never let on. He may have simply been suspicious that she was with the police because her acting was so bad. In any event, she called me in to get the goods on him.”