The hum of the AC unit and the ticking of the clock grew louder for each second Evelyn didn’t answer.
“It wasn’t anything bad,” Evelyn finally said, her voice low. “She and I are thinking about going into business together, and she needed time to . . . research some things. I knew she’d stopped going to her day job, we argued about that, but she said she didn’t worry about the money, she still had another job. I didn’t know it’d been that long.”
“The evening job isn’t every night. She’s on call and hasn’t showed up there most of the time. What kind of job requires ‘research’ all day and all night?”
A satisfied look crossed Evelyn’s face. “Party planning. Parties go on all day and night, you know.”
“Agreed. And I also know it’s not rocket science, so how much do you need to study?”
Something large crashed somewhere in the house. Young voices shouted, followed by angry words from an adult. Evelyn stood. “I have to go. I’ll see you to the door.”
“Where’s Tamora?”
With one hand on the open door, Evelyn waited until Jonelle stood outside on the porch. “She’s . . . I’ll tell her you need to speak to her.”
“Is she staying with you?”
“No.” The answer came a little too quickly.
“You sure?”
“I don’t think I like your attitude, Ms. Sweet.”
“And I don’t like being lied to. Especially when it involves the health and well-being of a child. Instead of covering for your sister, you might want to consider Lark in all this and what that poor little girl may be going through.” Jonelle turned on her heel.
“My sister would never—”
She whirled back. “Save it. I’m tired of hearing how great a mother she is. So far I haven’t seen much evidence of that. Tamora has until ten this evening to contact me. If I don’t hear from her, I have a detective friend who would be very interested in what I’ve found out about her—and her friends and family—so far.”
The door slammed behind her. Jonelle didn’t bother to turn around, afraid her middle finger would take on a life of its own. She headed to the office, intent on doing grunt work until she could stop by Vaughn Hanson’s place.
She walked into an empty reception area, opened her mouth to call out to Rainey, then thought better of it. Shooting the breeze with the secretary might calm her down, but she wanted her anger to continue bubbling. Whenever she allowed that to happen, it cleared up her thinking.
Once inside her office, she picked up two messages—both from Langford. She called him back and was put through right away. “I planned to call you today,” she said when he answered. “Though I’m not sure you’re gonna be happy about it.”
He sighed deeply. “Can’t say I’m surprised at this point. The DA is pressing charges against her. Right now they’re not charging her with the actual kidnapping, but they believe she’s involved. While I’ve kept her out of jail for now, she’s treating me like a pariah rather than someone who’s trying to help, and, frankly, I’m getting sick and tired of it. I hope you got better results.”
Jonelle gave him a quick run through. Except for several expletives, the lawyer asked no questions. “Here’s the thing,” she said. “I’m not happy with how she’s treating me, either. And she’s not the wonderful, innocent mother I’ve been led to believe from the people in her apartment. I’m not one hundred percent convinced she knows who took Lark. Have you considered the biological father in all this?”
The sound of shuffling papers came through the line. “Yeah. Uh, oh here it is. Guy’s name is Vaughn Hanson. We talked to him. He called the cops about his missing daughter.”
“Right. And I’m sure he told you about suing for custody, but I want to get a better feel of how deep his feelings were about Tamora’s social life. If he was obsessed about his daughter’s welfare, he might not want to wait for the courts to decide.”
“True.” Langford chuckled. “I gotta say, though. The one bright spot in all this so far is that you’re certainly giving me my money’s worth. Keep me informed.”
As soon as she disconnected, Jonelle picked up the last summons. A quick good-bye to Rainey, now seated behind the desk, and she was off. The “Failure to Appear” worked at an auto parts store and had evaded service previously because his co-workers covered for him. Not this time.
She knew what the man looked like, so when she arrived at the store, she marched up to the front counter, smiled brightly at the manager behind the desk, and without comment headed through the service door.
“Hey!”
She ignored his protests, strode up to a skinny brown-haired man wiping oil from his hands with a filthy rag, and shoved the papers at him. “Robert Spencer, you’re served. Have a nice day.”
The manager caught up to her. “Listen, Miss. You can’t come in here and—”
“I just did.” She slammed the door on the rest of his words. Sitting in her Jeep, she felt the tension from earlier fade away. “One more creep about to get his due.”
Jonelle drove to Centennial Park and slid her Jeep into a space nearest the start of the walking path. She cut the engine, and grabbed walking shoes from a cloth storage container stowed behind the driver’s seat.
She set out, determined to circle the lake twice, which should make it almost five miles. Even though she’d managed only once around, the solitary movement gave her time to mull things over.
Obviously there were two different Tamoras. To those where she lived, she was conscientious and put her daughter first. However, Tamora’s employers described an undependable woman. One of the things she wanted to address with Hanson was whether or not he could shed light on the different impressions about his ex.
Two hours later she pulled up to the curb of his townhouse and parked in a visitor’s space.
The robin’s-egg blue with white trim structure looked new, but Jonelle had seen many of these go up fast in the area. A garage on the side was closed. She pulled up on the pad in front and parked. A quick trip up three steps and she pushed a bell not audible from the outside. Wondering if the thing worked, she pressed again, harder.
“Hold on, hold on.” The door opened, and Jonelle found herself staring up at Hanson, still dressed in the same suit from earlier. “Oh. It’s you. What’re you doing here?”
“Told you I’d stop by.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t say it’d be this soon.”
“Problem?”
He looked behind his shoulder. “Guess not. Dinner’s almost ready, though, and I hate cold food.”
“I won’t stay long. Is your fiancée here?”
“Yeah.” He ushered Jonelle into a tiny foyer where a set of steps led directly up to the second level.
At the top of the gray carpeted stairs, a small woman stood stirring something in a pan on the stove.
“Hey, Cheryl, we got company.”
Cheryl turned, quickly replacing the smile with a slight frown. “We’re getting ready to eat.”
“I know. This is Jonelle Sweet, that private investigator I told you about. She stopped by to ask questions about Tamora.”
“I don’t know the woman,” Cheryl said.
“That’s all right,” Jonelle said. “I really wanted to clarify a few things with Mr. Hanson. Specifically about Lark.”
The smile returned. “Sweet child. We love having her here,” Cheryl said. “I wish . . .”
“Yes?”
“Nothing. Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes.” She shot Hanson a look before turning back to the stove.
Opposite the kitchen and dining room was a spacious living area, complete with buff colored leather couch and two matching chairs. “Nice place,” Jonelle said.
“We like it. And so does Lark. There’s space that I use as an office now that I’ll convert into a room for her,” he said.
Assuming she’s safe, Jonelle thought. “You sound convinced you’ll get custody.”
“Why
not? I mean, think about my life as compared to Tamora’s. No contest. Especially since she let somebody kidnap my child.”
“Wait a minute. You don’t know that for a fact.”
Hanson slouched into one of the chairs. Jonelle sat on the couch to his right.
“Earlier today you hinted one of Tamora’s boyfriends might have something to do with what happened. Why?”
He gripped the armrests. “You’re a detective. You must’ve learned by now that she’s got crap taste in men.”
“Oh, I don’t know. You seem okay to me.”
“She’s got you there,” Cheryl called from the kitchen.
Hanson glared at his fiancée who began setting the table.
The sharp aroma of Mexican spices and fried meat hung in the air. Cheryl placed what looked like taco fixings on the table.
Jonelle ignored the rumblings in her stomach. “Do you consider any of the boyfriends dangerous?”
He grunted. “Everybody’s dangerous if you give them a reason.”
“What kind of reason?”
“Leading them on. Getting them to buy you stuff and then turning around and hanging out with other guys. You know what I mean.”
“She ever do that to you?”
Another glance at Cheryl, who kept her head down.
“This isn’t about me. I want my kid back. That’s all. Every day I call the cops, and every day they claim they’re working on it. Yeah, right. Meanwhile my kid is somewhere, probably scared out of her mind. Or worse.”
His eyes filled. He turned away.
Jonelle tore several sheets of paper from her notebook and handed him her pen. “Write down every name of the men Tamora hung out with. Include stuff like addresses, phone numbers, places where they work—”
“I don’t know all that stuff.”
“Write whatever you do know. A description of them, what kinda car they drive. Do they live in her building. Anything and everything.”
“Hey,” Cheryl piped up. “What about that guy who works in her building? She dates him. Or dated, anyway.”
“Jelani Hill? I’ve talked to him a few times, and he’s definitely on my radar. I know enough to give her lawyer a definite heads-up about the guy,” Jonelle said.
Cheryl walked over to where they were seated. “And did you know he was around when another kid went missing in that building?”
CHAPTER 20
Hanson shook his head over and over. “I was living in that building with Tamora when that whole thing broke. Mrs. Watkins told us what happened. She said the Jamaican couple always fought, and one of them—think it was the wife—got pissed and disappeared with both kids. Police found everybody safe and sound in the Bronx a few days later.”
He handed one piece of paper back to Jonelle. On it he’d written four names. Not much to go on, but she folded the sheet in her bag.
“How long were you living in the apartment?”
“I left when Lark was about a year old.” Again that hangdog look. “Never should’ve done that. Never should’ve left my baby with . . .” He put his head in his hands.
Cheryl hovered around the dining room table. Now that Hanson opened up, Jonelle didn’t want him to stop. “Can you give me a feel for Tamora as a person? People at the apartment building generally had good things to say about her. Her supervisors at work indicated she wasn’t reliable. She’s more mysterious than I originally thought.”
He looked up. “Mysterious? Ha! She’s a whack job. Only thinks about herself.”
“If that’s how she is, what attracted you to her in the first place?”
Jonelle gazed over at Cheryl, who returned to the stove. Hanson’s fiancée seemed the polar opposite of Tamora. Thin, where Tamora was curvy, short hair worn in small curls framing her face, whereas wild was the best way to describe Tamora’s hairstyle. Viewed side by side, Tamora was the one a man would look at twice.
Hanson leaned forward, took off his suit coat, and removed his tie. “I’m not the same guy I was five years ago. I was twenty-four. She was eighteen but seemed older. A lot older. Back then, the hotter looking a woman was, the better. Didn’t much matter what was going on inside her head. What was important was what all the dudes thought. You wanted their approval. You wanted them to envy your woman. Stupid.”
He paused for several seconds. “Not long after we hooked up she got pregnant. Also stupid.”
“What kind of mother was she?”
He hesitated. When he spoke he measured his words carefully. “If I’m honest, she was very attentive and took good care of the baby. Lark barely got out a cry before Tamora would rush over and pick her up. And all the baby clothes. She couldn’t pass a store without checking to see if they had an ‘infants and toddlers’ section. Have you seen the prices on those things? Had to put my foot down.” He sighed. “Guess I shoulda been happy that for once she lavished money on someone other than herself.” He looked down at the carpet. “I really thought we could make a family.”
“What changed?”
“A few months after she got that job at the doctor’s office, she wanted to hang out with her new friends. That wasn’t so bad, at first. Heck, I went out a few times myself.”
“Who watched Lark when you both went out?”
“Her sister Evelyn or Maxine.”
“Go on.”
“Anyway, sometimes when I’d get home she’d go out again. After a while, instead of going out once every now and then, she started hanging out on a regular basis. Got tired of arguing with her, so I left.”
Jonelle bit her tongue. His walking out didn’t help his child. “Do you know why Tamora started missing work?”
He looked up. Jonelle followed his gaze to where Cheryl now stood motionless next to the dining room table.
“Go on and tell her everything,” Cheryl said. “No point in holding back now.”
“When I decided to petition for custody, I followed Tamora a few times. After she left her day job and picked Lark up from her sister’s, she went back to the apartment. I knew she left Lark with Maxine. So I’d wait until she came back out again, to go to her night job. A few times she went straight there. But the third time . . .”
Again, he looked at Cheryl, who nodded for him to continue.
“She went to work, but instead of going inside, she parked and got in another car. I couldn’t see who was driving, but I do know it was a man. I followed them and ended up in a shitty part of west Baltimore. The building looked abandoned, yet occupied. Know what I mean?”
She thought about Luther. “Sure. Go on.”
“Anyway, she and this guy park in front of one of the doors with iron bars top to bottom. No sign on the front. They get out and bang on the door. A little while later it opens, and they both go inside. I waited about an hour, but they never came back out. So I left, went to pick up Lark, and told Maxine that if Tamora wondered where Lark was, to tell her my daughter was with me. At about two in the morning, she arrived pissed that Lark was with me, but I didn’t care.”
She carefully studied Hanson. “Is the guy you saw her leave with one of the names on this list?”
He shook his head.
“Would you recognize him if you saw him again?”
“Not sure. It was dark. I didn’t get a good look.”
“You’re a smart man. What kind of place did you think that was?”
His hands gripped the chair again as his eyes bored into hers. “I went back there a few nights later. I saw the same car parked out front. I got out and walked up to the door. This time, I noticed a small decal, the words, ‘adults only,’ printed in red. I’d heard about places like that before. That’s where they shoot porno films.”
Jonelle felt as if someone punched her in the stomach. “You sure?”
“Pretty sure.”
That wasn’t good enough for her. “Did you try to get inside to confirm your suspicions?”
“Naw. I was so disgusted that I went out and got me a lawyer to get custody o
f my kid. Nobody should have a whore for a mother.”
“Vaughn,” Cheryl said, concern in her voice.
“Well, that’s what she is, and you know it as well as I do.”
Hanson’s words gave whole new meaning to the phrase “party planner.” Jonelle scribbled the words “porn star??” on her notepad. “Do you remember the address?”
“Like it was yesterday.” Hanson recited a location not far from where Luther stayed with his community of fellow indigents. Though he could be prickly, Luther had helped on a few of her cases. She’d search him out—find out what he knew, if anything, about what went on behind those barred warehouse doors.
CHAPTER 21
Damn! What the hell’s he doing here? This is not good. Wait ’til I tell everybody Hanson visited that PI at her office.
Speaking of which, you’d think she’d work in a fancier building than this. Granted, it looks clean from the outside, and nobody’s hanging around, but I woulda thought that she’d work in some kinda fancy high-rise near the harbor or something.
Waited to make sure Hanson was out of sight before I approached. It took a minute to find the PI’s office. Checking the names outside, the only one that comes close is Shorter Investigative Services. Shorter? Thought her last name was Sweet. No matter. Now I know for sure where she works and I already know the kinda vehicle she drives. Wonder how many brownie points I’d get if I follow her and give everyone her home address?
The transfer of the child went smooth. The idea is to keep moving the kid so if the heat went on one of us, somebody else could take over. It helps that she’s seen us all at least once. I make everything like a game, and I’m getting the feeling she’s starting to like the back and forth. The only complaint now is when I tell her to eat different food. Even so, another butterfly toy usually does the trick to calm her down.
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