“May I help you?”
Jonelle turned and faced a middle-aged woman in a white smock.
“Yes. I’m here to ask a few questions about Tamora Phelps. I’m working for—”
“Follow me.”
Without another word, the woman led Jonelle past the reception area and down a narrow hallway. After an abrupt right turn, she entered a large office and asked Jonelle to close the door.
“Please sit.”
“Thanks.” Jonelle pulled out her PI license and showed it to the woman, who hadn’t yet identified herself. “I’ll get right to it. I’m here on her lawyer’s authority. I understand she works here.”
“Worked. She’s been dismissed.”
Jonelle tried to read the woman’s face and came up with nothing. The nameplate on the desk read, “Susan Mahoney, RN, Administrator.”
“Fired?”
A quick nod.
“For what reason?”
The bland expression was replaced by a bitter smile. “We don’t like it when our employees end up in jail.”
“She’s out. And, I might add, hasn’t been convicted of anything. What happened to ‘innocent until proven guilty’?”
Mahoney leaned back against the leather chair. After a slight hesitation, she continued in a softer voice. “Her arrest was the last straw. I’d given her several warnings. After each one she promised to do better, and she never did. Fact is, until about six months ago, she was a good employee. Not great, but . . .” She shrugged.
“Warnings about what?”
“Attendance. Always attendance. I can forgive someone coming in a little late now and then, but there were days when she wouldn’t show up at all. A few times she’d call in sick or say her daughter didn’t feel well and she had to stay home. Even then, I tried to give her the benefit of the doubt. These last few months she didn’t even bother checking in. I’d ring and leave messages. Nothing. A few days later, she’d waltz in as if nothing happened.”
Mahoney stood, walked to a wooden file cabinet, found what she was looking for and sat. “The day after Memorial Day I told her if she didn’t come in as scheduled and on time, I was letting her go.” Her eyes met Jonelle’s. “For a whole week she was great. And then, nothing.”
Jonelle understood the woman’s feelings. “If everything was getting better, well, how could she know she was going to be arrested?”
“I know when she went to jail. She stopped coming to work about four days before that happened.”
“So what did she do here?”
“Front desk. Checked people in. Made appointments. That kind of thing.”
She didn’t know what to think. Everyone she talked to insisted Tamora followed the same routine. If she wasn’t going to work, where was she going? “How did you notify her that she’d been terminated?”
“Left messages on her phone and also sent a registered letter.”
Hanson said Tamora had a boyfriend at work. Mahoney struck her as the type who’d know. “Did Tamora have any friends here?”
Another shrug. “She was friendly to everyone. No problems at all with her getting along.”
“I’d like to speak to anyone she was especially close to.”
“Why?”
“Maybe they’d know where she was during the time she was supposed to be at work.”
Mahoney swiveled back and forth as if weighing how much to tell. “I asked everyone, and no one admitted to knowing what was going on with her. But it’s possible they simply weren’t telling me the truth. Frankly, I didn’t press it because at that point I no longer cared.” She glanced at a spot behind Jonelle. “I’ll see if Shawn is available. Those two seemed real friendly. Wait right here.”
In a few minutes, a tall man with a medium build, in blue medical garb, entered, and Mahoney directed him to sit in her chair. He paused, a quizzical look on his face. “Um. You sure? I mean, where’re you gonna sit?”
The high-pitched voice coming from the man didn’t fit his size.
“I think Miss Sweet wants to talk to you alone. Come get me when you’re done.” She glanced once at Jonelle before closing the door.
She waited until Shawn sat before beginning with her credentials and why she needed to speak to him.
“You a detective, huh? Cool.” His eyes smiled as if he knew a secret.
“Private. I work for an agency assigned to help in Tamora’s case.”
“Oh. Still . . .” He grinned, exposing a large gap between his front teeth.
“Right. Shawn is it? What’s your last name?” Jonelle took out her pad, pen poised to write.
“Don’t I need to swear to tell the truth or something?” He looked around as if expecting to find a bible somewhere.
She made a mental note to keep the interview simple. “No. No bible needed. Last name?”
“Mowerby. Spelled like it sounds.” He grinned again.
“Thanks. I understand you and Tamora knew each other well when she worked here. That right?”
The grin faded. “What you mean by that? I don’t know what happened to that little girl.”
“I’m not saying you did. What I’m interested in is your relationship with Tamora.”
“Friends. ’Cause, you know, she’s a real friendly kinda person.” There was that grin again.
Her next words wiped that smirk off his face. “Did you see her the night the child was taken?”
He sat up, back straight as a two by four.
“No way. I ain’t never been to her place. We only hung out . . . around here. That’s all.”
She didn’t believe him for a minute. “Where?”
He narrowed his already small eyes at her. “Happy hour. Went out for a bite. That’s it.”
“I understood she had a second job. Where did she find the time for the two of you to go out after working here?”
Things weren’t adding up. Tamora’s so-called routine kept unraveling.
“Oh that. That job was part-time—some kinda on-call thing. She didn’t have to go there every night. Least that’s what she told me.”
“She tell you anything else about this other job?”
His eyes roamed around the office.
“Shawn?”
He shrugged.
“Anyone else you guys hung out with? Either here, or maybe meet up with someone from her other job?”
“Naw. Only us together. Some of the girls who work here were kinda jealous of her. And I don’t know nobody from her other job.”
“Were the two of you a couple?”
His eyes widened. “What? No. Tamora didn’t want nothing serious, which was okey-doke with me. Know what I mean? Guys always gave her the once over, and she was kinda flirty, but that wasn’t no problem.”
“You sure you didn’t mind her toying with guys when you two went out? Most men wouldn’t like that at all.” Unless. She studied him a bit more closely.
“Like I said. It didn’t bother me.”
She let it pass. “Anyone else here she hung out with?”
“Not really.”
Jonelle thanked him and handed him her card, requesting that he contact her if he thought of anything else.
The two parted company in the hallway. Jonelle looked around for Mahoney, didn’t see the administrator anywhere, and left.
Although not included in the day’s plans, she opened the browser on her phone and pulled up the website for Tamora’s second job at a medical supplies company. While they were open twenty-four hours, Jonelle was anxious to get as much information as she could when she spoke to Tamora again. She wanted to confront the young woman with all the lies that were beginning to build.
She drove by the address the first time and had to go around again and again before she found it on the third try. The low brown building was so nondescript it looked as if someone had put it there by mistake. The address only appeared on a small sign situated on the ground along with several others, and its pale letters on a white background almost guara
nteed it couldn’t be read from a distance.
Annoyed at having to leave her car and slog around looking for the entrance, Jonelle pushed through the double doors on the one-floor building and stepped in a place filled with walkers, canes, orthopedic wraps, and various other items she hoped she wouldn’t have to use for many years, if at all. She didn’t have to worry about wasting time on pleasantries since she was the only person in the space.
“Hello? Anybody here?”
A few minutes later a young man with dark pants and white shirt hurried out from somewhere in the back. “How’d you get in here?”
“Through the door. How’d you think?”
He slipped past her and tried the door, which opened easily. “That’s supposed to be locked.” He ran his fingers through his short sandy-colored hair. “You’re supposed to ring the bell, and someone is supposed to let you in. This is a secure location. You’re not supposed to be able to walk right in and—”
“Yeah, well I did. So if you’ll stop obsessing and ‘supposing’ about the obvious for a minute, I’ll tell you who I am and why I’m here. Okay?”
He paused before giving her a quick nod.
She handed him her card. A quick explanation of who she was and why she was there was met by worry lines on his forehead. “I never heard of the woman. You sure she works here?”
“Positive. But she works on-call at night. Who’s in charge in the evenings?” Not seeing any chairs around, Jonelle wandered over and sat in one of several wheelchairs lined up against a wall.
He opened his mouth to object.
She held up her hand. “Unless you got someplace else for me to sit, I’m staying put. I’ll ask again. If you’re not here, say after five or so, who is?”
“Wait right there.” He headed toward the back, turned once to look over his shoulder, and disappeared through a revolving door.
Jonelle released the brakes on the chair, grabbed the large wheels, and eased forward and back, forward and back. Feeling a little silly, but unable to stop herself, she wheeled the chair up to the door, turned around, and slid back to the original spot. Curious as to the turning radius, she tried to manipulate the chair in the tightest circle she could. Someone clearing their throat stopped her from completing a second circuit.
“Excuse me. But how—”
“Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, let’s not go through that again. Didn’t Sparky over there explain all that to you?” Jonelle indicated the young man standing partially hidden behind a white woman dressed in a dark skirt and blue, short-sleeve blouse. She set the brakes and stood. Reaching into her bag she held out her PI identification.
“Follow me,” she said, after studying Jonelle’s ID. “We can sit in my office.”
The room reminded Jonelle of her first office at the agency. She’d had to use a former storage space until the renovations were complete. This area was no bigger, and she felt a familiar tightness form in her chest. “Um. Don’t close the door, if you don’t mind. I’ve got a touch of claustrophobia, so I’ll make this quick.” There was no nameplate on the tiny desk. “Can I get your name for my records?”
“Lillian. Lillian Comer.” The woman’s pale eyes regarded her with suspicion.
“Thanks. I’m interested in finding out whatever information you have about Tamora Phelps. My understanding is she works part-time in the evenings.”
“Not every evening. We call her, along with about ten or so others, when we start to get swamped with orders.”
“She took orders? What kind?”
“Small items and she didn’t take the orders, our day crew does that. She took the order sheets, found the items from the warehouse in the back and packed them for mailing.”
“How often did she work last week?”
“Hold on.” Comer reached behind the desk to a metal bookcase and pulled out a red binder. She flipped through pages and placed a finger on her lips. “According to this, she didn’t work at all last week.” Comer rifled through a few more pages. “Looks like the others did, but not her.”
“You sure? Are you here nights?”
“No, I’m not, but the night supervisor always puts the names of all those working every night.” She flipped through several more sheets and frowned. “Tamora’s name isn’t listed for the week prior to that, either.”
CHAPTER 18
The kid’s gonna stay with somebody else for a while so I can focus on that PI. Keep an eye on her to see how close she’s gettin’ and to take matters into my own hands if necessary. I’m praying I won’t have to do anything . . . complicated. That’s way above my head. All I’ve had to do so far, is keep the kid out of sight. I’ve depended on the cops chasing their tails and haven’t been disappointed.
Wonder what time she leaves the office? Who’s paying her? Know she ain’t doing all this investigating for the fun of it. When I told everybody I could make her stop snooping around, they all laughed. Claimed I could barely take care of myself. Then why, I pointed out, did they trust me with the child.
Said it didn’t have anything to do with trust. Convenience. That’s what they keep telling me.
I’m involved because it’s convenient.
CHAPTER 19
After learning from Comer that Tamora’s last evening of work was two weeks prior to Lark’s abduction, Jonelle called and left a message for Langford, updating him on the case. She hated informing him his client seemed allergic to the truth.
Still too early to check out Vaughn Hanson at home, she pulled into the drive-thru of Burger Palace and ordered a burger with the works, fries, and diet soda. She ate in her car, relishing the total silence while figuring out what to do about Tamora.
Nothing added up.
The woman kept to the routine of leaving the child with her sister in the mornings supposedly to go to a job she didn’t have any more. Afterward, Tamora picked Lark up to take her to Maxine’s before leaving again.
To go where? Not to work, based on what she’d found out from the manager.
Time to check out Evelyn Clifton. If Tamora didn’t go to either job, did she visit her sister to work on their so-called party planning business?
Arriving at the daycare, Jonelle slid her Jeep in a spot directly across the street. A small multicolored sign in an array of topsy-turvy letters announced, “Evie’s Little Tykes Daycare For Ages 2 Through 6.” Although the plastic toys from the night before still cluttered the ground, no children played in the front.
She unlatched the gate to the chain-link fence and strode up to the porch. Squeals of laughter erupted from the other side of a high security enclosure behind the house. Instead of knocking on the front door, Jonelle went around to the side. She looked for a gate, found none, and headed for the opposite side. No gate there, either. It looked as if the only way to access the rear yard was through the house.
The curtains on the one large window were drawn back. Before she could knock, the door opened, and she faced a woman about Tamora’s height but at least twenty pounds heavier and about thirty-years-old whereas Tamora was twenty-three.
“Help you?”
“Yes. I’m Jonelle Sweet. I’m working with Tamora’s lawyer as a private investigator. I’ve been assigned to gather as much information as I can about the night Lark was taken. Are you Evelyn Clifton?”
“That’s right.”
“May I come in and ask you a few questions?”
Instead of answering right away, Evelyn pulled the door closer, preventing Jonelle from seeing inside the house. “Now’s not a good time,” she said.
“In your line of work, finding a time when a child doesn’t need something might be an issue. But . . . I can come back later, if you prefer. Want to set up an appointment?”
“Appointment? How much time are you talking about?”
Jonelle answered with a smile and a shrug.
Evelyn looked behind her shoulder as if wanting permission to continue talking. After another moment of indecision, Evelyn moved aside. “C’
mon in. They just ate lunch and are playing for a while before I put them down for a nap. You can have a few minutes.”
Jonelle stepped inside. The soft whirr of a window air conditioning unit and a large ticking clock on one wall were strangely comforting, almost hypnotic.
Framed photographs occupied tables, shelves, and mantle of a bricked-up fireplace. Most were of smiling children, and a few were attired in mini caps and gowns.
“How many children are in your care?” Jonelle sat in an overstuffed chair with Evelyn across from her in a matching chair.
“Since school’s out right now, I have five. In the fall that’ll increase to around eight or so.”
“Why does the school year affect your business? Parents still have to go to work, right?”
“Yes, but some have older children who can watch the younger ones, so rather than pay me, the siblings take care of them. I don’t worry about it. I have a waiting list as it is.”
An adult voice cut through childish giggling.
“Is Tamora here?” Jonelle asked, twisting in the direction of the sound.
“That’s my assistant, Vickie. She’s been with me since I opened the business.”
Evelyn hadn’t answered the question. “I’ve been trying to locate Tamora. She’s not answering the door at her apartment, and both her employers tell me they haven’t seen her in a while. The day job supervisor dismissed her about a week before Lark was taken. A supervisor at the part-time on call job at the medical supplies company, a Lillian Comer, told me Tamora stopped coming to work about two weeks before Lark was taken. Did you know that?”
Evelyn’s lips pressed tighter and tighter with each of Jonelle’s words.
Jonelle waited, hoping for some kind of response. When none came, she continued.
“I started out thinking there was no way a young mother would have anything to do with her own child’s abduction. Everyone I talked to went on and on about what a good mother Tamora is. Now I find out she hasn’t been going to work in spite of keeping to her same routine.” Jonelle leaned forward. “I follow information wherever it leads, good or bad. I’m going to do whatever it takes to find out as much as I can about Tamora’s whereabouts before and during the time Lark went missing. You’re her sister. I’m asking again. Did you know she hadn’t been going to work after she dropped Lark off here and at Miss Maxine’s?”
Five Minutes Page 9
