Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Gary’s phone rang, and he peered at the screen. “It’s Pete Raskin.” He clicked Answer, then put him on speaker. “Good morning.”
“I know I shouldn’t be doing this, but I just wanted to know if you’d made any progress. Have you learned anything new?”
Gary could hear the barely concealed anxiety in his voice. “We do have a few leads to look into,” he admitted. Aiden Reynolds wasn’t off the hook yet, and someone had told Connor Brightmore’s family that Cheryl was dead. And then there was Paul DiFanetti. “We met with Aiden Reynolds.”
Pete huffed. “I bet you felt as if you needed a bath after that.”
At his desk, Dan frowned. “You’ve seen his posts on social media.”
“I’m not on any of that, but my buddy Francis is. I got him to do a search. Didn’t much like what he found.”
Neither did I.
“We still have some inquiries to make about him.” Then Gary remembered the scarf Dan had found. “Mr. Raskin, did Cheryl have a partner? I know you haven’t mentioned one, but did she date much?”
“Not really. She was either working or painting. But….”
His hesitation pricked Gary’s interest. “What did you just think of?”
There was a pause. “Do you have children, Detective Mitchell?”
“No.”
“Well… one of the things about being a parent is sometimes you get a kind of sixth sense. I’ll share something with you. I think Cheryl was keeping a secret.”
Gary thought it was probably the copies.
“I think there might have been someone she never told me about. I do know it wasn’t that Rayne.”
Gary frowned. “Who?”
“Rayne Wilcox. They met at college, right about the time she was starting to go by the name of Cheryl. Anyway, Rayne came home with Cheryl two, three times. She stayed with us. Tried her luck too, not that she got anywhere.”
“What do you mean?” Dan called out.
“She had a thing for Cheryl.” Pete chuckled.
“Not that she was subtle about it. She might just as well have worn a neon sign on her head that said Date Me, Cheryl? And then one night while she was staying with us, I got up to go to the bathroom, and I caught Rayne coming out of Cheryl’s room.
Judging by the look on her face, she’d struck out.
They were okay the following morning, though, so I guess Rayne didn’t take rejection too badly.
But they were close. Yeah, you should talk to Rayne.
She might know if Cheryl was interested in anyone. ” His voice took on a decisive edge.
Gary watched Dan scribble on a notepad. “We’ll do that. And Mr. Raskin? I know you’re anxious for news, but—”
“But I should wait for you to call me,” he interjected. “Yeah, I can see how me calling all the time might get to be a nuisance. Okay. I’ll let you get on with it.”
There was something in Pete’s voice that told Gary he wouldn’t be happy about waiting, however.
Dan got up and walked over to Gary’s desk. “Mr. Raskin, we want to find the person responsible too.”
“I know. And I thank God you’ve taken this case on. So I guess I should let you do your job.” He said goodbye and hung up.
Dan sighed. “We’ve brought back all the pain again.” He returned to his own desk.
“Then let’s see what we can learn from this Rayne character. Maybe that’ll bring us closer to the truth.” Gary tapped on the keyboard, peering at the monitor. “Aha.”
“That was fast. Have you found her already?”
He nodded. “Rayne Wilcox. Works at the Institute of Contemporary Art.” He grabbed the phone and dialed. It wasn’t long before he was connected to the right department.
“Hello?”
“Rayne Wilcox? This is Detective Gary Mitchell. I’m part of Boston PD’s cold case department, and we’re investigating the death of Cheryl Somers.”
“Oh, that’s great. Do you need background info on her? Is that why you’re calling? Because I knew her pretty well.”
“That’s exactly why I’m calling.”
“I don’t work Tuesdays. I could come to the police precinct tomorrow if that would be okay.”
Gary made a note. “That would be great. Morning or afternoon?”
“Afternoon would be better. I’ve got some things I need to see to in the morning.”
They agreed on an approximate time, and Gary thanked her before disconnecting.
Dan smiled. “A positive result. Let’s hope she can help us.”
Gary went back to the keyboard. “What was the name of Connor Brightmore’s boyfriend?” He scanned the surface of his desk. “Where’s my notepad?”
“I’ve got it here.” Dan grabbed it and hunted through its pages. “Ian Gordon, the senator said.”
Gary did a search. “Okay, there are three Ian Gordons in Boston. That’s assuming he still lives in Boston.” If none of those checked out, they’d widen the field.
“He’d be in his mid-fifties by now. That might help narrow down the search.” Dan went back to his desk. “I’ll take a look on social media.”
The first Ian Gordon turned out to be in his thirties. The second was in college.
“Hey, I might have found him.” Dan stared at his phone. “This guy is the right age. He’s a software designer here in Boston.” Dan smiled. “According to his Facebook page, he works from home. Perfect.”
“Then let’s find an address for him. We’ll pay him a visit.”
“Don’t you want to call him first?”
Gary shook his head. “I want you to see him, hear him… get a feel for him. And if I call first, he might refuse to see us.”
“You’re hoping he’s our man, aren’t you?”
“He has one of the strongest motives so far, don’t you think?”
Dan leaned back in his chair, his fingers laced.
Gary cocked his head. “But you don’t think that, do you?”
“Did you check the case notes? Is there any mention of the senator supplying his name to the detectives at the time?”
Gary had given the notes a cursory glance. “None at all.” When Dan fell silent, Gary studied him. “What’s on your mind?”
“It just strikes me that we’re only going to see this Ian Gordon because of what Senator Cain told us. But what if the senator is lying?”
Gary cocked his head. “I thought you liked him.”
“I do. But that doesn’t mean we should trust him implicitly.”
“But why would he lie?” The only reason Gary could think of would be to deflect attention away from himself, except that made no sense. The senator wasn’t under suspicion.
Dan’s gaze grew thoughtful. “No one is above suspicion, except for Cheryl’s dad.”
Gary chuckled. “You really need to stop doing that.”
“Doing what?” Dan appeared confused.
“Coming out with stuff that I’d been thinking only a second or two before.” He liked that they seemed to be on the same wavelength, but all the same, it still felt as though Dan was in his head.
Concern flickered in Dan’s eyes. “I’m not sure I can turn it off. Is that going to be a problem?”
If they weren’t in the office, Gary would have taken Dan in his arms and reassured him with a kiss. “I don’t think so. Now, back to the senator….”
Dan bit his lip. “All I’m saying is… check out his statement before we make a move. Who were the detectives on the case back then? I’m talking about when she first disappeared.”
Gary picked up the folder and opened it. “Detectives Owen Williams and Phil Harris.” He stilled. “Wait a sec. I know that name.” He smiled. “Got it. I’m sure that’s the same Phil who runs the coffee shop on Massachusetts Avenue. I think he opened it when he retired.”
“Isn’t that where you stop for coffee some mornings? The one that does those amazing cinnamon rolls?”
“The same.” Gary grinned. “You know what? I think we need a coffee break.”
Dan was already reaching for his jacket.
The smell inside the coffeehouse was as fragrant and delicious as always. Gary inhaled deeply, breathing in the aromas of freshly brewed coffee, sugar, spice. He’d been coming to Phil’s Place for about three years. It was popular with his coworkers, and Phil brewed a great cup of coffee.
“I’ll grab a table.” Dan headed for the corner.
Gary went to the counter to order coffee. Phil was chatting with the young woman who often served Gary first thing in the morning. He broke off their conversation when he caught sight of Gary and flashed him a broad smile.
“Don’t normally see you twice in one day, Detective. Not that I’m complaining.” He inclined his head toward Dan. “Does he want his americano as usual?”
“Please, and a coffee with cream, no sugar, for me. A couple of danishes too.” Gary paused. “And a few minutes of your time if you can spare them. This isn’t exactly a social visit.”
Phil arched his eyebrows. “I see.” He removed his black apron. “Dee? Take over for me for a minute, would you? And I’ll have a coffee with cream, two sugars.”
“Sure, Grandpa.”
Phil walked out from behind the counter and accompanied Gary to their table. Gary sat beside Dan. Phil pulled out the chair facing them and sat. He regarded Dan with interest. “I recognized you when you came in last month. You’re that psychic who’s been helping out my former coworkers.”
Dan gave a nod. “And we’re here because we need your help.”
“Color me intrigued.” Phil clammed up when Dee came over with the coffees and pastries. “Thanks, honey.” He waited until she was back behind the counter. “Okay, guys, what do you need from me?”
“In 1992, you investigated the disappearance of Cheryl Somers.”
“Ninety-two? Wow. Talk about ancient history. The name’s familiar.
” Phil froze. “Wasn’t she the one who turned out to be the body in the tunnel?
Yeah, I remember.” He frowned. “But I wasn’t one of the detectives investigating how she came to be in that tunnel.
She was only a missing person when I got involved. ”
“We know,” Gary said. “But that’s the part we’re interested in, the initial investigation.”
“Specifically, if you recall speaking with Senator William Cain,” Dan added.
Phil sipped his coffee. “He and her dad reported her missing, I recall that much. Is that what you’re talking about?”
Gary shook his head. “The senator claims he came to you with an idea about who could have been responsible for her disappearance.”
Phil’s brow furrowed. “Claims?”
“Yeah. There’s no record of him doing that in your case notes.” Gary waited.