again. People were made suspects at the time and they couldn’t defend themselves. It’s always worst to feel helpless.”
“Yes, I know.”
Vicky bit her lip. Perhaps Glen Cove should have taken a different attitude toward Diane’s return, welcoming her and even welcoming her questions, no matter how painful they might be. It was not Diane’s fault that her family name had become associated with a crime. The real person to blame was the abductor.
“Shall we walk together?” she suggested.
Diane appeared surprised at her offer, but agreed, falling into step beside her further down the beach toward the vantage point. The German shepherd was still chasing waves, while Mr. Pug padded along on the other side of the beach close to the cliffs. Coco had found a piece of wood, which she sniffed from all sides, before running after Mr. Pug, her tail up and her sharp bark filling the air.
Diane asked, “Where do you live?”
“At the far end of Main Street, where it turns away to Culver Road. There are several empty cottages there so I could rent one at short notice.”
“Then we’re almost neighbors,” Diane said. “I rented the one old widow Black used to live in.”
“The captain’s widow?” Vicky could still see the man in her mind, in his uniform coming back from a week at sea. Fishermen then still stayed out for days on end, and he had been in charge of a large ship that employed about ten men from Glen Cove and a neighboring town. The captain’s wife had been a nice petite woman who bought cookies at the baker’s and then handed them out to the children in the street. Her own grandchildren had lived on the other side of the country, and she had only seen them at Christmas.
Diane walked vigorously, almost smiling at her. “Yes, it’s a cute place with old-fashioned curtains and tiny rooms compared to what I’m used to. But I feel right at home. The kitchen is great with an old stove. I had to get used to handling it, but now I’m fine. It gives so much warmth that I spend a lot of time near it.”
She hesitated a moment. “Often I can’t sleep and get up to do some chore in the kitchen. Cleaning, breaking beans. I hadn’t done that in years, but it’s very relaxing. The same movement over and over again. Until your head gets empty.”
Vicky wondered if Diane had anybody to talk to now that she was out here. It seemed like she was dwelling mainly on her sister’s fate. That could not be healthy.
Maybe she should engage her in something distracting?
“I empty my head here on the beach,” Vicky said, gesturing around her. “I can forget all the craziness of my store renovations and just re-energize.”
Diane responded right away. “Oh, yes, I heard about your gift shop idea. Things from London, right? I’ve been there on holiday once or twice. Maybe I’ll drop by one of these days.”
“It’s quite messy still,” Vicky warned, “but if you want to drop by to see how I’m doing, feel free to do so. I’d love to hear your opinion on my plans.”
They were approaching the stone steps that Vicky usually took. They led up to the vantage point and from there back over a trodden dirt path to Claire’s cottage.
“My mother is waiting for me with some lasagna,” she said to Diane. “Would you like to join us?”
Diane hesitated as if she wasn’t sure. She looked up to the vantage point. Her expression set.
Vicky followed her gaze and spotted the figure of a man standing like a statue, his arms up, holding something dark to his face. Binoculars probably. Birdwatchers frequented the vantage point the year round, hoping to spot something extraordinary.
Diane seemed to be in a hurry all of a sudden. “That sounds nice, but I’ve had dinner. I think I’m going to jog some more. But I will come see the store, all right? Bye.”
Without waiting for a response from Vicky, she whistled to her dog and ran off. The German shepherd responded at once and followed her with large bounds.
Puzzled, Vicky watched the two figures for a few moments, then she shrugged and walked to the steps where Mr. Pug and Coco were already waiting for her. The dogs knew that if they whined and looked pathetic, she’d cave and carry them up. She bent down to fetch Mr. Pug and tuck him under her arm.
Coco playfully skipped away to elude her grasping hand. Mr. Pug snorted as if he reproached her, while Vicky tried, half bent over, to get the white ball of fluff that shot this way and that. Coco was like a toddler who didn’t want to go to bed and drove her mommy insane by running away from her as soon as she reached for her.
At last Vicky had both dogs secured in her arms and climbed the steps. She could now see the birdwatcher better. He was slowly moving the binoculars along as if he was following a moving target. His posture seemed somehow familiar but it was hard to tell in that wide dark overcoat and baseball cap.
As soon as the last step was within reach, Mr. Pug wriggled to be released. Struggling to breathe evenly, Vicky put him down. Coco wasn’t eager to walk and snuggled in her arms.
While Vicky readjusted the doggy’s weight, Mr. Pug waddled to the man with the binoculars.
Vicky wanted to call him back, but Mr. Pug was already there and pushed the man’s calf with his nose. The man turned round and looked down, then at Vicky.
It was Michael Danning.
He didn’t seem to be surprised to see her and Vicky realized he had probably followed her encounter with Diane on the beach. His presence here at the vantage point was a strange coincidence. To her knowledge Michael Danning had never taken a big interest in birds. But maybe he had developed it as a hobby over time. Perhaps those binoculars had been with him in Columbia or New Zealand to spot some rare species?
Michael squatted to pat Mr. Pug, then rose to his full height and smiled at her. “Can I walk you to your door? Or rather your mother’s as I suppose you’re dropping off the dogs there?”
“Sure.” Vicky’s heart skipped a beat. Too bad Mom would be waiting with the lasagna and the bottle of red wine. Vicky had rather dropped off the dogs and taken Michael to her own home, for a glass of wine there. She was eager to share with him how the store was coming along. Maybe, if she created a warm atmosphere, he’d be willing to share how he really felt about Diane’s return to Glen Cove and why he had asked about Sheriff Perkins’ old records of the disappearance. What did he expect to find in those? Was there an actual chance of the old case being reopened?
Michael walked beside her, pulling absentmindedly at the binoculars around his neck.
“I know too little about birds,” Vicky said innocently. “Mom told me there was something rare to see this time of year, but I’ve already forgotten what it is.”
“You’re a terrible liar,” Michael said. “You know I wasn’t watching birds. I don’t have the patience for it.”
Vicky exhaled slowly. No matter how much she wanted to believe Michael had been there for her, another option was more likely. “You do have the patience to follow Diane Dobbs around?”
“I don’t follow her around,” Michael said sharply. “I don’t like her habit of roaming this stretch of beach on her own. Feelings in town are hostile, and I’m worried somebody might try and attack her. To scare her away.”
Vicky studied him from the side. “Why would anybody do that? People are not happy with her questions, but…”
“I got a call.” Michael sounded tight. “Low voice, could have been a man, or a woman trying to mask her voice. The caller said that if Diane didn’t stop digging, she would pay.”
“Why would the caller call you and not her?”
“For obvious reasons. Diane might ignore the warning. She is dead set on discovering something here. She came all the way from Europe for it and she rented the cottage for the summer, not