Leona Karr - Charmed

“How far is it?” she asked in a strained voice.

“Within walking distance of the wharf,” he assured her. “But not on a night like this. The Langdon house sits on the highest point at the southwestern tip of the island. There’s a great view when the weather’s clear, but its location makes it vulnerable to wind, rain and fierce winters.”

Ashley sat rigidly in the seat, staring straight ahead. Lorrie…Lorrie.

“Tell me, what exactly was your sister doing for the Langdons?” he asked, which surprised her. Surely he’d been informed of her assignment at the house. She had the feeling he was just trying to keep her mind occupied.

Briefly, she explained the Langdon family’s decision to auction some of the vintage clothing that had been collected since the turn of the century.

“A lot of money involved?” he prodded in a slightly skeptical tone.

“A handmade gown by a noted designer can bring as much as a hundred thousand dollars.”

He let out a slow whistle.

“Private collectors, dealers and museums are always on the lookout for the kind of vintage clothing that the Langdons have decided to put on the market. Prices have shot up eighty percent in the last five years. There’s a charm about antique clothing and jewelry. Lorrie was excited that she was the one chosen to catalog everything.” Ashley’s voice broke as she remembered how happy her sister had been when the assignment had been confirmed.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “We’ll get to the bottom of it, I promise.”

They both fell silent.

A few minutes later, he swung the car in a half circle and parked at the side of a sprawling, three-story structure that seemed to be balanced precariously on high ground facing the rocky Atlantic shoreline below. All the windows were dark except for a couple on the main floor. The roar of the crashing surf was like a greedy monster lashing at the land with a crazed fury.

“This is known as the Langdon compound,” he explained as he hurriedly guided her along a walk to the front of a white mansion. “There are several outbuildings and a private dock below the mansion.”

She straightened her shoulders and brushed damp bangs back from her forehead as they mounted wide steps to a pair of carved doors. She had never felt more unkempt and had never cared less!

“Be careful,” he said as he rang the doorbell.

She stiffened. “What do you mean?”

“Just what I said. Watch yourself. There’s a pattern of violence in the Langdon family.” His tone was hard as the granite rocks strewn along the beach. “Tragedy seems to follow anyone who unwittingly gets snared in their web.”

The front door was opened by a tall, angular woman with gray hair pulled back in a tight knot. She wore a shapeless dark dress that accented her beanpole figure. As she admitted them into the entrance hall, her sharp glance went to their wet shoes; she looked as if she might order them to take the sodden footwear off before allowing them any farther into the house.

“Evening, Mrs. Mertz,” Brad said, nodding. He’d met the widowed housekeeper earlier when interviewing the family after Lorrie’s disappearance. The austere woman had answered his questions curtly, maintaining she hadn’t even been aware of Lorrie Davis leaving the house. Edith Mertz’s attitude had given him the impression that she hadn’t thought the comings and goings of the young woman were worthy of her attention.

“Will you inform the family that Ashley Davis, sister of the missing woman, has just arrived from California.” Brad’s tone made it sound more like an order than request.

“They’re in the family sitting room,” she replied curtly. “Understandably upset. I certainly hope you will clear this up quickly, Officer. The entire household has been distressed by this unfortunate event.” Her tone clearly indicated she thought the island’s poor police protection was to blame. “Follow me, Miss Davis.”

As she turned away, Ashley shot him a questioning look. Despite all her bravado, he could tell she was looking for his support.

“You want me to stay?”

“Yes, please.”

He had decided to leave her suitcase in the car until they knew what kind of reception she was going to get. Clearly accepting guests in their home, unless they were personally invited, was not the norm for a prestigious family like the Langdons; they might expect Ashley Davis to find accommodations elsewhere. Unfortunately, seaside cottages were already closed for the season and only a couple of questionable boarding houses took in transient year-round visitors.

He boldly put a guiding hand on her arm as they followed the housekeeper across a wide foyer. They went past a curved staircase mounted against one wall and then down a hall paneled in dark walnut.

They had passed several closed doors when they met a man, wearing a raincoat and carrying a medical bag, coming toward them.

Brad nodded in recognition of the island’s doctor. “Evening, Dr. Hadley.”

He was a tall, nice-looking man in his late forties, with graying dark hair and a well-toned body that matched his alert expression. The doctor was Clayton Langdon’s private physician, and he handled only routine medical cases that arose on the island. All others he sent to the mainland either by boat or arranged a helicopter pickup at the school playing field. A makeshift ambulance van was kept in the garage of the doctor’s home office.

“How is he, Doctor?” Mrs. Mertz demanded in her usual curt manner. “We hated calling you out on a night like this but—”

“No problem,” Dr. Hadley quickly assured her. “Clayton is less agitated now, and I left something for a good night’s sleep when he’s ready to retire.” He nodded at Brad. “Evening, Officer. Any new developments?”

“’Fraid not.”

The doctor glanced at Ashley. “My goodness, young lady, you look chilled to the bone. You’d better get into some dry clothes and have something hot to drink. We don’t need another patient in the house.”

“No, we certainly don’t,” Edith Mertz echoed with pursed lips as if Ashley were bringing some kind of sickness into the house.

“From the sound of that wind, we’re in for a night of it.” He gave them a brisk nod and continued down the hall toward the front door.

Mrs. Mertz led them deeper into the house and then turned into a brightly lit sitting room warmed by blazing logs in a large fireplace.

Three people sat in chairs near the fire. Brad kept his hand on Ashley’s arm as they moved toward them. An elderly Clayton Langdon squinted at them, and his fifty-year-old son, Jonathan, frowned at the intrusion. A slightly built woman, somewhat younger than the men, rose to her feet with the habitual response of a hostess to unexpected guests.

She was Ellen Brenden, the sister of Jonathan’s late wife, Samantha, who had been killed in that automobile accident on the mainland nearly twenty-five years ago. Now in her forties, Ellen had become a fixture in the Langdon’s household.

Brad liked her. Ellen was a spry and energetic woman with dishwater brown hair cut short around a full face. She wore a colorful, trendy outfit designed for a younger woman. Living with the Langdon family afforded her a comfortable lifestyle, but Brad thought that meeting the demands of the two Langdon men couldn’t be an easy row to hoe.

“This is Ashley Davis, the dead girl’s sister,” Mrs. Mertz announced in her abrasive manner.

“Missing sister,” Brad loudly corrected her.

“Oh, yes, of course…missing,” Ellen Brenden stammered as if trying to rectify the housekeeper’s embarrassing error.

Brad guided Ashley across the room to where Clayton Langdon and Jonathan were sitting. “Miss Davis flew in from California this evening in response to her sister’s disappearance,” he told them briskly.