“We’ve come to return his personal effects,” Cody said. “And we have a few questions for you and your parents. Are they here?”
Benjamin Vanderhei turned away. “Yeah. Come in.”
He led us through a foyer with marble floors and a marble table containing a towering floral arrangement that probably cost more than a month’s worth of my wages. A multitude of smaller arrangements were arrayed on the table around the base of the stand, sympathy cards protruding from plastic stake holders. I did my best to walk softly, acutely aware of intruding on a family’s grief.
Mr. and Mrs. Vanderhei received us in a sitting room that was bigger than my entire apartment. It had a picture window that looked onto the wind-ruffled waters of Big Pine Bay, a baby grand piano, and a bar with half a dozen crystal decanters on it, silver tags identifying the spirits within them, something I’d only ever seen in movies.
There were more floral arrangements on every surface, a further reminder of the family’s loss.
The word that Jim Vanderhei evoked was patrician. He was tall and lean, with a thick head of silver hair, his face lined and distinguished. His face was expressionless as he heard out our condolences, and he accepted Thad’s water-damaged wallet without a word of thanks, his gaze flinty. “When can we have our son?”
“As soon as the medical examiner releases his findings, sir,” Cody said. “We’re so very sorry for the delay. The chief’s on the phone with him as we speak.”
His wife, Sue, seated on the couch, choked back a sob. She was some ten years younger than her husband, rail-thin, with birdlike features and blond hair pulled into a chignon so tight it looked painful. “Thad drowned! For God’s sake, it was an accident! I don’t understand why you’re being such ghouls about this!”
“I’m sorry, ma’am,” I murmured, ignoring the accusation’s sting and her unfortunate choice of insults. “We’re just trying to be thorough.”
Cody cleared his throat. “Forgive me for asking, but did any of you notice anything unusual about Thad’s activities in the past few weeks? Any new friends? Unexplained absences? Uncharacteristic behavior?”
“No!” Her voice rose, and she dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. “Do you think I don’t know my own son?”
Jim Vanderhei glowered. “Exactly what in the hell are you trying to cover up down there?”
A flicker of anger stirred in me. I tried to tamp it down and failed, a faint scent of ozone creeping into the air around me. “No one’s trying to cover up anything, sir. We’re trying to get at the truth. And you’re not helping.”
He stared at me in disbelief.
In the shocked silence, their younger son, Benjamin, took a seat at the piano and began playing a single, halting musical phrase over and over, his head bowed. It helped me regain my focus.
“I’m sorry,” I said again. “That was uncalled-for.”
“Miss Johanssen is upset by your son’s death,” Cody said. “As we all are. I apologize for her behavior.”
The younger Vanderhei boy kept playing.
“Benjamin!” His mother’s voice rose again, cracking and breaking on a shrill note. “Stop it. Stop it this instant!”
He stopped.
“I’d like you to leave now, Officer.” In contrast to his wife’s voice, Jim Vanderhei’s was flat and controlled. “You can tell Chief Bryant that either he can give us our son and let us mourn in peace, or he can give us answers and stop protecting whoever or whatever unholy conspiracy he’s trying to hide. Until he does, I will continue to bring the full scrutiny of the press down upon him. I’ll have his badge and his resignation before this is done. And that’s just a beginning.”
I opened my mouth.
Cody’s hand settled on my shoulder. “Duly noted, sir. I assure you, there’s no conspiracy. We’re just trying to do our job. One last question. Is there a bottle of scotch missing from your bar?”
“No,” he said automatically.
“You’re sure?”
Jim Vanderhei strode over to the bar, pulling out the stopper on the crystal decanter marked SCOTCH. He took a sniff. “Present and accounted for, Officer. Would you like to try it for yourself?”
Cody glanced around the room. “Do you keep additional bottles in store?”
“We do not.” His voice was stony. “This isn’t Pemkowet, Officer. Temperance and moderation are virtues.”
I gritted my teeth.
Cody’s hand tightened on my shoulder. “Understood,” he said. “Once again, I apologize for troubling you.”
Jim Vanderhei gave him a brusque nod. “I want my son back. Tell your chief he’s on borrowed time. Ben, please show our guests out.”
Without a word, the boy rose from the piano bench. We followed him back through the marble foyer. Beneath my lightweight skirt, my tail was lashing uneasily. “What was that you were playing?” I asked. “I liked it.”
“Ravel.” Benjamin glanced at me with his shadow-smudged eyes. “‘Pavane pour une infante défunte.’”
I blinked.
“Pavane for a dead princess,” he clarified. “Not exactly gender-appropriate, but . . .” He shrugged. “It gets the point across.” He opened the door. “Thad was part of a secret society. You should look into it.”
Cody and I exchanged a glance. “The Tritons?” I asked. “We know about the fraternity.”
Benjamin shook his head. “No. Everyone knows about them. But there’s a secret society inside the Tritons. I don’t really know, but I heard Thad mention it on the phone a couple of times when he thought no one was listening. I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I did. Something about the Masters of the Universe.” He hesitated. “There’s a guy, a Triton alum—he hangs around the frat house a lot. Matthew Mollenkamp. He’s older. Whatever it is, I think maybe he had something to do with it.”
“Did you ever hear Thad mention someone named Ray D?” Cody asked.
Benjamin gave his head another shake. “Sorry, no. That’s all I know. Whatever Thad was up to this summer, he was pretty secretive about it.”
“Thank you,” I said softly. “That’s a big help.”
He looked at me with tears in his eyes. “Do you think maybe Thad did something bad down there?”
“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I hope not.”
I did, too. But I wasn’t sure.
Eleven
Cody and I drove in relative silence back to Pemkowet.
“Sorry about that,” I said at length. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper.”
One corner of his mouth quirked. “Short fuse. I can’t say I blame you. It doesn’t matter; Jim Vanderhei’s not going to back down until he gets his way.”
“I don’t get it. Why are they so uncooperative? Their son died! You’d think they’d want to do everything possible to find out the truth.” I frowned. “Do you think the Vanderheis are hiding something?”
“Could be.” Cody shrugged. “But not necessarily. It could be they honestly believe it went down the way the other boys said, and they just want the chance to grieve and move on. Could be they think we’re muckraking, trying to drag their son’s name through the dirt as payback for their supporting Prop Thirteen.”
“You know about Prop Thirteen?” It surprised me a little.
He glanced at me. “I’m not stupid, Daisy. It could have affected my entire clan if it passed.”
“True.”
“Anyway, it could also be that the Vanderheis don’t want the truth uncovered. They might not know what it is, but they have a bad feeling about it.” Cody turned in the direction of Pemkowet. “I lean toward that theory.”
I thought about my mother’s reading. La Botella, the bottle. “At least we know the boys were lying about the scotch.”
“Mm-hmm. But they could have gotten it anywhere. All three of them were old enough to buy.”
“So why lie about it?”
He sighed. “Good question, but it’s going to have to wait, along with the Masters of the Universe. Once we get some more leverage, we can try questioning the boys again. Right now, I’ve got to concentrate on tracking down Ray D—and speaking of uncooperative, you’re still on naiad duty. What’s your plan for getting them to talk?”
“Oh . . .” I temporized. “I have a friend who has some influence with them.”
Cody glanced at me again. “What kind of friend?”
“Oh, no.” I shook my head. “If you don’t know, I’m not telling, Officer Down-low.”
“He’s in the closet?”
“Not exactly, not in the eldritch community.” I pointed at him. “But you are, or at least your clan does its best to stay there. And my, um, friend has a better reason than most to be discreet. You can’t expect to receive a trust you don’t extend to others.”
“Fair enough.” He gave a slight nod. “For what it’s worth, I trust you.”
“You do?” That surprised me, too. A lot.
“Yeah.” Cody pulled into the alley alongside the bakery. “At least, I’m starting to. Call me later; we’ll touch base.” His gaze drifted toward the dented Dumpster. “And think about what I said about staying somewhere else for a few nights.”
“I’ll think about it.”
His gaze hardened, green flashing behind the topaz. “If it happens again, if you hear anything suspicious, call me immediately, okay?”
Sunlight was glinting on the bronze stubble on his jaw in a distracting manner. I fought the urge to touch it, reminding myself that Jen wasn’t speaking to me for this very reason. Okay, fine, I actually sat on my hands. “I will.”
Leaning across me, Cody opened the squad car passenger door. “Good.”
