Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
“This is a retirement home?”
Gary chuckled. “I know, right?” Springhouse Senior Living Community was nothing like he’d expected. As they followed the driveway that led to reception, all he could see were trees, flowers, and elegant white buildings.
“It must cost a fortune to live here,” Dan commented.
Gary approached the circular area at the end of the driveway and switched off the engine.
It hadn’t taken long to track down Pete Raskin the previous evening, and Gary had called ahead to make sure they’d be okay to visit.
Pete had been a resident of the community since his retirement and was now seventy-six.
They entered the building, and Gary was struck by how light and airy the interior was.
A couple of residents smiled as they approached the reception desk, which was located near the entrance, and a young woman greeted them with a warm smile.
When they told her they were looking for Mr. Raskin, her smile widened.
“You won’t find him indoors on a glorious day like this.
This property is situated on thirteen acres, and Pete helps take care of the gardens.
” Her eyes twinkled. “We’ve even tried to pay him for his services, but he won’t hear of it.
” She pointed toward the door they’d used.
“Go back that way, turn left, and follow the signs to the fountain. He won’t be far away. ”
They thanked her and exited the building. Gary couldn’t get over the lushness of the lawns surrounding the accommodation. A path led them to a low stone wall circling a pond where water trickled down over tall rocks, and all around was the delicious fragrance of summer flowers heavy with perfume.
“This is a beautiful place,” Dan murmured.
“It is, isn’t it?” An elderly man knelt on a thick mat in front of a flower bed, his hands full of weeds.
He tossed them into a dark blue sack and struggled to his feet, wiping his hands on the apron he wore about his waist. His hair was all but gone, but his eyes were still bright, a piercing blue that gave his face a youthful appearance.
“Mr. Raskin?”
He nodded. “You here to see me? They said I was to expect visitors. I don’t get many of ’em. And call me Pete.”
“I’m Detective Gary Mitchell from Boston PD, and this is Dan Porter. We’re—”
“You’re here because of Cheryl, aren’t you?” Before they could confirm it, tears spilled onto his wrinkled cheeks. He reached into his deep pocket and removed a handkerchief, then dabbed his eyes, sniffing. “Sorry about that. Don’t know what came over me.”
Gary pointed to the rustic bench beside the fountain. “Let’s sit, and we can talk.”
Pete sat, his breathing still hitching now and then.
“You are here about Cheryl, aren’t you?” He paused, staring at Dan, and his eyes widened.
“I know your face. You’re that psychic who helped the police catch that serial killer last month.
Are you working with them to find out what happened to Cheryl? ”
Dan smiled. “Yes. I’m part of Boston PD’s cold cases department now. And—”
“Thank you, thank you, both of you.” Fresh tears streaked Pete’s face. “I always dreamed one day I’d learn the truth, but to be honest I’d given up hope. So do you know who killed her?”
Gary sighed. “Not yet. We’ve only just begun to look at the case, and you’re the first person we’re talking to. Do you think you could answer some questions?” He joined Pete on the bench, and Dan perched on the low fountain wall.
Pete squared his bony shoulders. “If it helps you find out how she died, I’ll answer as many questions as you like.”
Gary took out his notepad. “When was the last time you saw her?”
Pete didn’t hesitate. “August twenty-eighth, 1992. Back then I was the head gardener for Senator Cain, at the Cain residence in Lenox. Cheryl lived there with me, in the cottage provided by the family. Well, she did until 1987. After that, she got a place in Boston, where she worked.”
“How long did you work there?” Dan asked.
Pete scratched his head. “I started there in 1958, when I was sixteen. The senator was only four years old then.” He smiled.
“He used to run after me, demanding that I play with him. Then I met Rachel—my wife—and we married in sixty-one. Cheryl came along in sixty-four.” He glanced at them.
“You wanna know why she will always be Cheryl for me?” His Adam’s apple bobbed.
“It’s a sort of… penance. Because I didn’t get it, not at the time, when she said she’d always felt like a woman in a man’s body.
I-I wasn’t the most tolerant of men back then.
But you grow older, wiser. And when I saw how much happier she was as Cheryl, well, I had to accept her decision.
Her mom, on the other hand… it drove a wedge between them. ”
“Where is your wife?” Dan’s voice was soft.
“She died four years ago. Heart attack.” Another hard swallow. “She gave up hope of ever finding out what happened.”
“Where did you last see Cheryl?” Gary asked.
“At the senator’s house in Lenox. She turned up that morning to see me.” He smiled. “She’d gotten into a habit of visiting every Friday during the summer months. I think it was because Friday was her regular day off. She came early and had breakfast with me. Then I went to work.”
“Did you see her after that?”
“No, sir. I finished work at noon, and then the wife and I went to visit my mother-in-law. We stayed there until Sunday night.”
“Do you know of anyone who saw her after August twenty-eighth?”
Pete shook his head. “No, not a soul. And you’d better believe we asked everyone.
When the police contacted me in 2006 to say they’d found a body that might be Cheryl, I prayed they’d got it wrong, but that steel pin was the clincher.
She had an accident when she was nineteen, you see.
It made a mess of her leg, but they fixed her up. ”
“The car accident?” Dan proffered.
“You know about that?” When Dan nodded, Pete gave them a keen glance. “And what about all the stuff that came after? The death threats? The letters?”
Gary stilled. “What?”
Pete gave a slow nod. “For two years. Anonymous letters, phone calls, all saying the same thing—that she was to blame. I told her to go to the police about them, but she never did. I think the senator told her the same thing. And then they stopped.”
“Do you know have any idea why?” Gary asked.
He swallowed hard. “Yeah, I do. Because that was when Ben Raskin disappeared off the face of the earth and Cheryl Somers was born. She changed her name, her hair, her clothes, and suddenly I had a daughter instead of a son.” He flushed.
“I’m not proud of how I reacted at the time.
I only hope I made it up to her in the years leading up to her disappearance. ”
“We saw her work. Her portraits.” Dan’s face glowed. “Such a talented artist.”
Pete gave a wry chuckle. “I’ve got no idea where she got it from. Her mom and me, we were about as artistic as a road digger. Hard to believe the portraits were a sideline. I think she made more money from them than from her job.”
“What did she do?” Dan asked.
“She was an art conservationist at a museum, but painting became her life. Her bedroom at home wasn’t that big, and most of it was taken up with her painting gear.
She said the light was good in there. And sometimes she’d go to museums and sit in front of famous paintings. She’d study them, copy them….”
“Did she study art at college?” Gary inquired.
“Yeah, but she’d never have done that without the senator. He paid for her tuition.”
“That was very generous of him,” Dan remarked.
“He wanted to help, and we couldn’t afford it.
” A faraway look came into his eyes. “Cheryl and him, they used to talk about art all the time, even when she was a kid. He’d take her to the house and show her all those paintings his family had collected for generations. Maybe that was what got her started.”
“So until her body showed up, she was a missing person?”
Pete gave another nod. “When she first went missing, the senator… I think he put a bit of pressure on the police department to give her case higher priority. They told him they were doing everything possible to find her. So then he hired private detectives, offered a reward. But there was no sign of her.” He studied his clasped hands.
“I tried to hold on to the tiniest hope that she was alive, but I think I knew deep down. Because if she’d been alive, she would’ve contacted me.
And as more years went by, I accepted she was dead. Then that tunnel collapsed….”
Gary held his pen poised. “We’re going to put together a list of everyone who knew her. Can you think of anyone we should definitely speak to?”
“First name that comes to mind is Lori. Can’t remember her surname. She worked with Cheryl, and she was something to do with art. Maybe she was an art conservationist too. Then there was Rayne… she was a friend from college.”
“We read the report on the assault in 1989. Aiden Reynolds.”
Pete scowled. “That lowlife. But I suppose you need to talk to him too. If I think of anyone else, I’ll let you know.”
Gary removed a card from his wallet. “Here’s my number.”
Pete took it, thanking him. “Will you come back and let me know if you find anything?”
“Of course,” Dan assured him. He glanced at their surroundings. “You live in a beautiful place.”
Pete’s face glowed. “And that’s only because of the senator. If it wasn’t for him, I’d….” He swallowed, then straightened. “Seeing as you’re investigating, you might want to look into those anonymous letters. Maybe someone found her after all. Someone from that guy’s family.”
Gary had had the same idea. “Did she keep any of them?”
“No, not one. I suppose that means there’s no evidence. Can’t really investigate if you’ve got nothing to go on.” He glanced at Dan. “Although I suppose you might find other evidence no one has even considered.”
Dan smiled. “That’s the plan.”
Pete stood, walked over to Dan, and grasped his hands. “Then God bless you for being part of this.”
Gary’s chest tightened at the sight of tears sparkling in Dan’s eyes, and he knew it was a reaction to whatever he’d felt during their contact. Gary might not have Dan’s gift, but he felt Pete’s grief as deeply as he felt his own. They had both lost someone precious.
No, lost was the wrong word. They’d both been robbed of someone they loved.
We’re going to find out what happened to her. We’ll do whatever it takes.