Lost Distinction Read online

  Tightening his grip on me, he muttered, “I came for Arthur. You should know that.”

  “You two always were close. Sometimes it seemed like you were more of a brother to him than any of us.”

  “What are you kids up to? It’s almost time for breakfast!”

  I followed the sound and saw a lovely woman in her sixties wave at us. She had neatly cut light-brown hair that curled in at the neckline. She wore a light-purple dress shirt and a long, gray skirt.

  “Richard, I’m sorry for my overreaction and for whatever else is bothering you. You and your mother have suffered more over the years than any of us, but you came to help. Please, put your anger aside for now.” Edward took a deep breath. “Let’s keep this between us. My mother is putting on a good front, but she’s broken up about Arthur.”

  Rick nodded once. Edward breathed a sigh of relief before turning his attention to me. I tensed under his stare, but Rick’s reassuring embrace calmed me down.

  “I didn’t realize how uninformed you were about the entirety of this situation. I assumed Richard filled you in on everything. The purpose of this weekend is to try to figure out what to do about Arthur. We don’t know where he is or what, if anything, has happened to him. My father saw how you handled the Michaels’ case and the trials that followed. He was impressed with your work and with you. We really need your help.”

  Somehow, I managed to nod, but I couldn’t speak. Not yet.

  “The other reason for this gathering is to help my mother,” Edward said. “She’s a good woman, a strong woman, but this is killing her. My father figured the best way to approach it was to have the whole family come here for the weekend and spend some time together. It would take her mind off Arthur and give you a chance to figure out what might have happened.”

  “Edward, I appreciate your being upfront about this. I have a pretty decent track record with my cases, but I haven’t handled a missing person case before. This is new. The only thing I can think of right now is that if I’m going to help, I need to know everyone will be honest with me. I can’t do my job if I’m kept in the dark.” I made eye contact with Rick when I said this last statement. “Now, I have one other question.”

  Edward cracked his knuckles. “What?”

  “What do you think happened to Arthur?”

  Edward sat down on one of the lawn chairs and Michelle joined him. Lovingly, she leaned against his broad shoulder and took his hand. He stared off into space for several moments. “I have no idea. Last I heard he planned to stay at Crowell to teach the summer session. He’s devoted to that school.” He hesitated. “I hate to admit this, but I’m not exactly in close contact with my little brother. The last time I saw him was Easter.”

  I turned to Rick. He was looking down at the sand. “What about you? When was the last time you spoke to or saw Arthur?”

  Rick pressed his thumbnail against his lip and stared across the water. “I guess about a month ago.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “Nothing in particular.” He shrugged. “Small talk. He said he wanted to get together so he could finally meet you. Said it was long overdue.”

  I paused, thinking. Before I had a chance to formulate another question, someone approached us. At the top of the embankment stood Mrs. Cross. “Now, what in the world are you kids up to? I told you breakfast was almost ready.”

  Michelle dusted sand off her pants. Rick offered me his hand. I accepted it and we followed her toward the large house. Edward stopped abruptly and raced back to the beach. Moments later, he re-emerged with a football in his hands.

  He motioned for Rick to go long. Rick stood there with his arm draped over my shoulder and his strong jaw clenched. I frowned. It seemed strange to me, how this family was trivializing a missing son. But, I learned early in my profession to go with the flow.

  I nudged Rick. “Go on.”

  His soulful eyes met mine. After an internal debate, he finally jogged across the lawn. Edward threw the football. It was a perfect spiral, sailing through the air with ease. Rick watched it and began running. He caught it and pulled it to his chest.

  Mrs. Cross smiled and wagged her finger at them as if they were two twelve-year-olds. “All right, you boys can play later. You don’t want to get dirty before breakfast.”

  That brief interaction seemed to alleviate the tension that had developed between Rick and Edward. As they walked together toward the house, they continued to toss the ball back and forth. I tried to ignore the uneasiness I felt about their casual behavior as Michelle linked her arm in mine and we hurried inside. We took a right at the staircase and passed between the Corinthian columns, which reached delicately up to the crown molding.

  We then walked past the onyx bench into the next room. We passed through what appeared to be a formal sitting room with three sky-blue couches centered in the middle of the room. Someone had opened the front window and the wind blew the white drapes slowly. The next room we entered was the morning room.

  It had an elegant, Edwardian dining room table with sixteen federal chairs. Against the left wall near the door was an equally stylish china cabinet with bone china on display. On the outer wall was a long window with maroon drapes that matched the rug beneath the table. Everyone was already seated at the table with the exception of us. There were four places on the far side of the table as well as one chair on the end for Mrs. Cross. The ambassador sat at the other end.

  When we entered the room, all the men stood up, but William made a point to roll his eyes while doing so. Mrs. Cross paused as Edward led the way to our chairs and tapped my shoulder.

  “I do hope you’ll accept my apology for my lack of manners.” She sighed. “Things have been quite out of the ordinary lately. I’m Kathryn Cross. I’m so pleased you’re joining us this weekend. We’ve missed Richard dearly and are so happy you two are both here.”

  As she walked to her seat, Edward made eye contact with me and nodded. Once Michelle and I were seated, the men, who all remained standing during Mrs. Cross’ introduction, finally took their seats.

  Two young women entered the room carrying trays as I placed the napkin on my lap. We each received a small plate with a half of a grapefruit and the women, dressed in identical maid uniforms, exited quickly. They returned just as fast with two pots of hot tea and poured each of us a cup.

  Once they left the room again, Mr. Cross cleared his throat and folded his hands together. We all did the same and he proceeded to say grace. Afterwards, Mrs. Cross looked over at me as she picked up the smallest spoon and scooped a small bit of grapefruit from its shell.

  “Whenever we’re together we like to serve a traditional English breakfast.” She smiled as she put the grapefruit in her mouth and chewed it. I looked around the room and saw everyone was eating their grapefruit.

  Michelle, who was sitting on my left, rolled her eyes when she was certain no one else was looking. The next course was a freshly prepared bowl of porridge. It tasted like hot, mushy cornflakes sans flavor. I hated it, almost as much as I hated the hot tea, but somehow managed to choke it down without incident.

  While we were eating, the discussion around the table ranged from politics to theories about the Red Sox’s pennant chances. No one mentioned Arthur once. I found it alarming, considering his empty chair sat across from mine. After the porridge, we had fried eggs and bacon followed by kipper, the oiliest fish I have ever consumed. I found myself drinking more tea with the fish than anything else in hopes it would alleviate the heavy feeling in my stomach. Lastly, during the fifth course, we had the option of either toast with marmalade or scones. I tried to nibble a scone to be polite, but as someone who rarely ate breakfast, I felt as if I would explode. I prayed it would only take a few extra hours at the gym to work off the food.

  After the meal finally ended, everyone headed outside including the five children who had eaten their breakfast earlier that morning and spent the extra time in the playroom with a nanny. It
was a beautiful day. The brothers began talking excitedly about sailing over to Edgartown in the afternoon. I attempted to engage the sisters-in-law in a conversation about Arthur, but was ignored.

  Baffled, I sat with Michelle on a white bench near the gardens, wondering if these people were callous or just crazy. I watched Rick play football with the Cross men and the children. Nadia, Ann and Jane wandered off toward one of the smaller houses, which Michelle informed me were guest cottages. When we were alone, I decided to make one final attempt to obtain some information about the case. Thankfully, Michelle obliged.

  “So, when was the last time you saw Arthur?” I asked as the guys cheered when one of Stuart’s sons scored a touchdown with George’s help.

  Michelle stared past the men. “I guess the last time I saw him was at Easter. Since Mr. and Mrs. Cross couldn’t make it back from London in time, we went over to Stuart’s house in Falmouth. I was surprised to see him there.”

  “Why? Does he usually avoid family holidays?”

  She clapped when Rick carried one of the twins over the “goal line” for a touchdown. She looked back at me and shrugged. “To be honest, I haven’t seen Arthur many times in all the years I’ve been married to Eddie. He lives and works in Middletown but just always seems too busy to come around. Eddie never gave me specifics, but I think Arthur tries to stay away from his family for some reason.”

  “He didn’t say why?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “Can’t say I blame him.”

  I found myself more confused every time I learned more about this situation. As I sat there, I considered all the things I knew as fact. First, Arthur Cross was missing and had been missing for several days. Second, his family was concerned enough about his disappearance that they felt it necessary for his parents to fly in from London, but they did not want to involve the police as it might generate unwanted publicity. Third, they were going to a lot of trouble pretending like nothing was wrong.

  I looked across the yard and saw the Crosses watching their children and grandchildren with absolute enjoyment. The last thing I knew was by far the most troubling fact of all. As I sat there, it became crystal clear that this family was hiding a secret. Would I ever learn it?

  Chapter 5

  The football game ended at about ten. Rick ran up to the lawn chairs where Michelle and I sat, wiping the perspiration from his brow onto the backside of his hand. I recognized an instant change in him from between when we had arrived and when that game ended.

  Rick often told me how much he loved me. He also kissed me and held me, but I always felt in my heart he was holding back. When he reached me after that game of touch football, I felt like I was seeing another, warmer side of him. It was invigorating.

  He grinned as he picked me up off the bench. Holding me in his arms, he kissed me. Passionately. His cousins heckled him, but he ignored them all. When he finally put me down again, everyone had gathered around the ambassador, whose attention was focused on us.

  “Richard, how would you two like to join us in Edgartown?”

  “Ooh, yes!” Michelle grabbed my arm, yanking me away from Rick. “They have some of the cutest shops there.”

  “Uh, sure,” Rick replied, suddenly reserved once more. “That’d be nice.”

  Mr. Cross clapped his hands together, ignoring this transformation. “Excellent. We can grab lunch over there, too.”

  “What about ice cream, Grandpa?” one of the twins called.

  “Absolutely.” He beamed. “How could we leave Edgartown and not get ice cream? They have your favorite flavor there, too.”

  “What’s that?” the little girl giggled.

  “Lobster!” He tickled her. She laughed uncontrollably as she tried to pull away from the attack. Her twin ran over and took the opportunity to tickle her, also.

  Stuart ran after his two older sons who started throwing the football again while George egged on the boys. Edward headed toward the dock and climbed on the sailboat, which the ambassador had christened Charisma.

  “That’s a pretty big boat,” I commented as Rick and I followed Michelle down the embankment.

  “It’s a schooner,” she corrected, rolling her eyes. “I think it’s fifty-five feet long, something like that. It has three cabins below deck.”

  I knew little about boats but enough to be impressed. Rick draped his arm across my shoulder. He managed to slow our pace so there was a slight distance between Michelle and us before stopping.

  “Are we okay?”

  The sun accosted my eyes when I attempted to meet his gaze, forcing me to look down again. “I guess.”

  “I’m really sorry,” he lamented. “I should’ve told you, but I didn’t want you to feel compelled to help if you didn’t want to.”

  “I get that.” I brushed some strands of hair the wind blew in my face behind my ear. “What bothers me is that you lied.”

  “I didn’t lie.”

  “Come on, Rick. You said he was your roommate. I know that part’s true, but you acted like you two only met because of school—”

  “That’s the truth,” he insisted. “We were assigned as roommates. We became friends later. One time I visited his family during our sophomore year and his mom started to ask me questions about my family. She figured out that Mr. Cross and my mother were cousins and that their grandfathers were brothers.”

  “How could she come to that conclusion? Isn’t your mom’s maiden name Martin?”

  “Yeah, but she made the connection. Jordan, I’m telling the truth. I swear.” I believed him, but I knew that his tendency to withhold information would eventually reappear and that it could affect our relationship. He took my hands. “I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

  “I’m considering taking this case,” I replied, removing my hands from his. “I need to know you’ll be straightforward with me from now on.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Not only about this,” I insisted.

  He stared off into the ocean. After what felt like an eternity, he pulled me close. His embrace felt warm against the chilly winds.

  “I promise. I really want this to work. I want us to work,” he clarified. A half smile appeared on his face. “But you’re going to have to be patient with me.”

  “Aren’t I always?”

  He laughed and we started walking toward the boat again. Suddenly, I stopped mid-step. “Rick, there’s something else I need to know. Did you have a falling out with this family?”

  Rick scratched his jaw and glanced at Mr. Cross. “No, not really.”

  “Rick!” I gave him an exasperated look.

  “Okay, okay. The last time I saw him was before I started college. You know how I waited a year for personal reasons? Well, he heard I decided to go and wanted me to go to Yale like his sons did and to study law. I thanked him for his interest but said I’d already picked a college and a career. I wanted to be an accountant like my dad. To make a long story short, the Ambassador wasn’t happy. There was an argument and that’s when he mentioned the family feud. The way he said it, I don’t know, it just made me think he had known about my mom and me all along but decided not to help us. I felt that attending the same school as Arthur and our being roommates was too much of a coincidence.”

  Rick left it at that, intimating he would talk to me more later when we were alone and leaving me wondering what he meant by a family feud. We continued our walk and reached the boat moments later. Michelle and Edward were already on board.

  Michelle held a champagne glass in her hand and waved it. “Come on in, the water’s fine.”

  Edward frowned at her as he offered me his hand. He and Rick helped me aboard while the others started walking toward the boat from various locations on the lawn.

  “Have you ever been on a sailboat before?” Edward inquired.

  “Well, no, but I’ve been on a party barge. It was nothing like this.”

  “Okay, Sailing 101,” he exclaimed. “The
se are the masts. The tall one in front is the main mast,” he pointed to the two tall, vertical steel towers ascending skyward. He then pointed to a line on one of the masts as a strong gust of wind blew. “Those wires coming down from the masts are called the rigging. This is the topping lift. It’s used to hold the boom up when the sail is lowered.” He then nodded at a long, horizontal pole attached to the mast. “That’s the boom. It keeps the foot, or bottom, of the sail flatter when the sail angle is away from the boat’s centerline. And this—”

  Michelle took one last sip of champagne, put the glass down, and interlocked her fingers in her husband’s. He stopped talking, suddenly transfixed by her beauty. “Let me help you keep this simple.” She winked. She then linked arms with me and we walked to the stern. She pointed at the stainless steel railing affixed to the boat. “That’s the guardrail. It keeps you from falling off. Don’t stand too close to it because a strong wind can knock even a ship this size off course and if you’re not prepared or don’t have sea legs as my husband likes to say, you can fall overboard. Lesson complete.”

  Edward rolled his eyes and returned to work, prepping the boat. Pausing, he called out, “If you ever want a real lesson, let me know.”

  Everyone began to climb aboard. The children all ran below deck, laughing and cutting up. Michelle poured herself a second glass of champagne as Nadia climbed aboard gracefully. She glared at Michelle with contempt.

  “Isn’t it a little early for that?”

  Michelle took a sip and smiled sweetly. “Not if I have to spend the entire day with you.”

  With an appalled expression on her face, Nadia stormed off, making her way below deck. Michelle stared after her, frowning. Realizing she had an audience, she explained, “I’m not an alcoholic. I rarely drink at all, actually. It’s just—” She paused and looked over at her husband. “I love Eddie so much. I love the water, too. I’m from Oahu for God’s sake! But sailing and boats.” She trailed off and shut her eyes. “I just don’t like being in a situation where Mother Nature has the upper hand, you know?”