Chapter 1
A few high, puffy, white clouds brushed over the bright blue, June sky as Claire, Nicole, and Robby left the television studio and stepped out onto the warm Boston street.
“We did great.” Robby, a music student studying vocal performance, smiled broadly. “I bet we were a hit with the audience. The desserts came out perfectly and the interview about us and the cookbook went really well.”
“Especially the part when you burst into song.” Claire’s long blond curls bounced over her shoulders.
“I think that was the highlight of the whole thing,” Nicole chuckled.
“Let’s get a drink to celebrate.” Robby pointed to the door of a coffee shop. “I think sales are going to soar after people see us when the show airs next week.”
“Okay, one coffee and then we need to get back to the chocolate shop,” Nicole told her friends.
Nicole and Claire owned and ran a popular chocolate store in the city’s North End, and they and Robby had written a cookbook together for a well-known publisher and the three of them were making the rounds to Boston news organizations, local television stations, and bookstores to promote the new book. Almost a year ago, they’d co-won the grand prize at an annual food festival held down by the waterfront, and since then, the chocolate shop had taken off with tourists and locals lined up each day for the café’s drinks and desserts. The shop had been recently expanded, but it was already bursting at the seams.
Settling into a booth by the windows for a few moments of peace before returning to work, Claire, Nicole, and Robby ordered ice cream sundaes and iced teas.
Robby made a toast. “To continued fun and success. It wouldn’t be the same if we weren’t doing this together.”
Claire and Nicole agreed whole-heartedly.
“I couldn’t handle the stress of it without you two to make me laugh,” Nicole licked some hot fudge off of her spoon.
“I’d never do this on my own,” Claire agreed. “It’s so much work. If I was on my own doing this, it would end up being drudgery. With all of us together, it’s a joy.”
After chatting for a few minutes, twenty-two-year-old Robby asked his friends, “Have you seen the news? That guy who thinks he saw his dad hurt his mother just won a wrongful death suit against his father.”
Claire felt a rush of adrenaline race through her veins. “I never heard about this.”
“Which part?” Robby asked. “The dad hurting the mom or the lawsuit?”
“I don’t know anything about any of it.” Claire took a sip of her cold drink.
“Neither do I.” Nicole shook her head. “Wait. Was the guy three years old when his mother went missing? Was there a baby daughter, too?”
“That’s the case.” Robby nodded. “The guy’s name is John Wilby. He’s twenty-eight now, but he was a three-year-old when his mother disappeared. Not long ago, he filed a civil suit against his father and he won.”
“Why did he file suit?” Claire’s blue eyes showed confusion. “Is the father in jail for murder?”
“No, he isn’t. He was never arrested or put on trial. Not enough evidence,” Robby explained with a look of disgust. “But there are lots of people who think he killed his wife.”
Claire grimaced.
In addition to working at the chocolate shop and finishing his degree in music, Robby enjoyed being an amateur online sleuth who frequented cold case websites, digitally scoured old case notes, police files, and reports, looked through old yearbooks, phone books, ancestry websites, and studied internet views of crime scene locations so he could contribute new information, ideas, and potential leads to a case.
Robby reported what he knew about the old case. “The father, Jackson Wilby, worked with his wife building a business. Friends and relatives say the couple was going through a rough patch, not getting along. The mother’s name was Cheryl Wilby. She was thirty when she went missing. They had a two-month-old daughter, Kimberly. The three-year-old boy, John Wilby, told investigators at the time that he saw his father hurt his mother. There wasn’t enough evidence to charge Jackson so he got off, but recently John sued his father for his mother’s wrongful death. I read this morning that John won the case.”
“The name Jackson Wilby sounds familiar,” Claire said.
“That’s because he’s famous,” Robby smiled as he watched Claire struggle to figure it out. “Is it coming to you? Do you know who he is?”
Claire was about to say no but stopped herself before she said the word. “Wait a second. He’s the founder of Journey, the online furniture and home goods store, isn’t he?”
“Bingo,” Robby said.
“I don’t remember hearing that Jackson Wilby was involved in a crime,” Claire said.
“That’s because you were five years old when it happened. And anyway, Jackson was never charged,” Robby told her. “He and his wife were at the early stages of creating the online company. The wife was supposedly the brains behind the idea.”
“You think Jackson killed her?” Nicole asked.
“Me and thousands of other people think he did.”
“Did the son win a monetary settlement?” Claire questioned, feeling uneasy about the case.
“He sure did.” Robby used a napkin to wipe some ice cream from his lip. “Twenty million dollars.”
“What?” Nicole’s eyes went wide and she almost jumped from her seat.
“There’ll be an appeal, of course,” Robby said. “The son probably won’t ever see a dime of it, but the decision showed that the father had some responsibility for Cheryl’s death, meaning that the father had a duty of care he didn’t fulfill and that there was causation which means the father breached a duty to his wife.”
“What does that mean?” Nicole tilted her head to the side.
Robby leaned back against the booth. “Basically it means that Jackson Wilby did something that led to his wife going missing or he didn’t take care to protect her in some way. It doesn’t mean Wilby was responsible for Cheryl’s disappearance or death. Cheryl’s body has never been found.”
“What about the daughter? Did she and her brother file the civil suit?”
“The daughter died in a car accident when she was sixteen,” Robby said.
“How awful,” Claire said. “Where did they live when this happened?”
“Arlington. Jackson Wilby still owns the house they lived in back then.”
“Does he?” Nicole asked.
“The house is part of the settlement to the son.”
“Where does Wilby live now?”
“Weston. In a mansion. A great big one.”
“I met Jackson Wilby a couple of times,” Claire said. “A few years ago when I was married to Teddy.”
Robby gave her a look.
Claire had worked for years as a corporate attorney and met her late husband while employed at his company. Teddy was more than forty years older than Claire, but he’d sincerely loved her and she’d loved him. Her deceased husband had been one of the wealthiest men in America and when he died, his fortune went to Claire who had always kept a very low profile. She was a tough negotiator and didn’t allow anything to slip past her at board meetings. Her holdings were run on a daily basis by her trusted team who along with Claire, had squashed a hostile takeover of the company right after Teddy died.
Needing a change, Claire moved to Boston with her two rescue Corgis, found a townhouse, and applied to work at Nicole’s store. The two young women became the best of friends and Nicole eventually invited Claire to form a partnership with her so they would co-own the chocolate shop together.
“I met Jackson at some charity events,” Claire explained. “I remember I didn’t like him very much.”
“Why not?” Nicole asked.
Claire frowned remembering the man. “I couldn’t put my finger on it, but he seemed too full of himself, he was sort of arrogant. He seemed like he was really in love with himself. He gave me the impression that he was really thrilled to be Jackson Wilby.”
Nicole groaned.
“What does the son do? Since the young man sued his father, I imagine they’re estranged from each other?” Claire asked.
Robby nodded his head. “You’re right. The son owns a construction and renovation business. He does well for himself, but he is nowhere near his father’s level of success or wealth. Jackson Wilby is at the very top of the heap. John Wilby owns a small company. The father and son are two worlds apart.”
“Are there other siblings?” Nicole asked.
Robby shook his head.
“Did John live with his father after the mother disappeared?”
“He didn’t. He and his sister moved in with their aunt. She raised them.”
“Why didn’t they stay with the father?” Claire asked.
“I don’t know what the circumstances were,” Robby replied.
A sense of icy cold moved through Claire’s body and she shook her shoulders to try to ward off the feeling. Ever since moving to Boston, Claire had developed a strong intuition that had been helpful in assisting her boyfriend, Detective Ian Fuller, with several cases. Claire didn’t like the phrase, but Nicole called her friend’s ability to strongly sense things about people and situations a paranormal skill.
“Should we get back to the shop?” Claire suggested.
Nicole nodded. “The employees must wonder where the heck we are.”
As they gathered their things and stepped outside into the sunshine, Robby said, “I bet the police will reopen the investigation into Cheryl Wilby’s disappearance.”
“Why do you think that?” Nicole asked. “It happened twenty-five years ago.”
Robby said, “There’s some noise online in the amateur sleuth websites that this wrongful death lawsuit will instigate another look at the case.” He looked at Claire. “Ask Ian. Maybe he’ll know something about it.”
Just then Claire’s phone buzzed with an incoming text. “It’s Ian.” The young woman read the message and then lifted her head. “He wants to come over later this evening. He wants to talk to me about a cold case that’s starting to heat up.”
Robby’s eyebrow raised as he eyed his friend. “Well, well. Looks like Clairvoyant Claire is on the case.”
Chapter 2
Detective Ian Fuller sat with Claire at the patio table eating dinner in the tiny yard of her apartment in Adamsburg Square near the Beacon Hill area of the city. The condo apartment was located in a brick townhouse in a small neighborhood of historic brownstone homes. The neighborhood had cobblestone streets, brick walkways, and old-fashioned streetlamps. Claire’s place had a large living room with three enormous windows and a sliding glass door that opened to a small garden with a bit of grass, two shade trees, and a patio all enclosed by a high white fence. There was a large dining room, a beautiful kitchen, a small private basement, and two bedrooms.
Claire’s two Corgis, Bear and Lady, played with a ball and ran up and down along the fence. Little white lights strung along the branches of the big shade tree twinkled overhead and an occasional, gentle breeze made the leaves flutter.
“Robby was great at the television interview.” Claire lifted her fork to her mouth. “He has such a fun personality. Everybody loves him.”
“When will the episode be on?” Ian asked.
“Next Monday. First, we sat with the interviewer and talked about the chocolate shop and how we all ended up working together.” Claire’s eyes sparkled. “They even had a clip of Nicole fainting on stage after we won the grand prize at the food festival.”
With a grin, Ian rolled his eyes. “She will never live that down.”
“She’s mortified of course, but she’s a good sport about it.” Claire went on with her report about the interview. “After we chatted with the host, the three of us went into the stage kitchen and made one of the recipes from the cookbook. It came out great and the host loved it. It was a fun experience.”
“I can’t wait to watch it.” Ian took a swallow from his glass of beer and leaned back in his chair. “Would you like to hear about my news?”
Claire made a serious face and looked into her boyfriend’s brown eyes. “Hmm. Maybe not. Maybe we should skip talking about sad news.” She took Ian’s hand and smiled at him. “Go ahead. I know it can’t be avoided.”
“Have you heard about a young man who recently sued his father for the wrongful death of his mother?”
Claire nodded. “It just so happened that Robby was telling us about the case right before you texted me this afternoon.”
“He knows about it from his internet sleuthing?” Ian asked.
“It’s something he’s just started looking into.”
“What did he tell you?”
Claire summarized what she knew about the disappearance of Cheryl Wilby.
“Robby’s information is correct,” Ian said. “The son, John Wilby, has asked the police to re-open the case and have another look at it. The officer originally assigned to it now works with me here in the city. We’ve been assigned to go through the files and case notes.” Ian held Claire’s eyes with his own. “I’d like you to look things over, too. You know … just in case something stands out to you that other people would overlook.”
Claire gave him the eye. “You mean that normal people would overlook?”
Ian grinned. “I mean people who aren’t as special as you are.”
When Claire first told her boyfriend about her intuition, she was surprised at how well he took the unusual news and how interested he was in hearing all about it.
“I brought some of the folders with me in case we want to have a look at the information together,” Ian said hopefully.
“Let’s have dessert inside at the dining table and we can spread out the files and have a look,” Claire suggested as she carried some plates and glasses inside with Ian carrying the rest of the dishes.
Bear and Lady raced into the kitchen with them.
When the young couple had settled in the dining room with slices of cake and cups of coffee, the Corgis lay down under the table and Ian pulled some folders from his briefcase.
“Just so you know, I’ve met the father,” Claire told Ian.
Ian looked up from the paperwork with wide eyes. “You know Jackson Wilby?”
“I only met him a few times. I really don’t know him. We chatted for a little while. I’m sure he wouldn’t remember me. It was a few years ago.”
“I’m going to speak with him at the end of the week. Maybe you should come along,” Ian said. “Listen to what he has to say. See if you can pick up on anything.”
“I’ll go with you if you think it would help,” Claire said. “Have you gone through the files?”
“Some of them.” Ian opened one of the folders. “The son was only three when his mother went missing. John was interviewed by the detective and an officer. He told them some interesting things.”
Claire pulled her chair closer. “What did he tell them?”
“He kept repeating that Daddy hurt Mommy. Over and over. When they asked what his father did to Cheryl, John kept saying that his mommy fell down.” Ian read from a sheet of paper. “Daddy hurt her. Mommy fell down. Her eyes were closed. I told her to get up. She didn’t get up.”
“Did John say anything about his baby sister?”
“The officers asked about the infant, but John said he didn’t know where she was.” Ian pointed to a few sentences on the page. “John was an unreliable witness due to his age and to some other things he told police.”
“What other things did he tell them?”
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