Willow Pond

by Carol Tibaldi

  Phillip shook his head and fixed a black stare on Wilson. “Maybe so. But if you do that, they’ll kill Todd. I won’t take that chance. I’m going alone.”

  Chapter Ten

  Brown paper grocery bags crunched against Nancy's chest as she worked the stiff latch of the front door. It swung open and she stepped in, slamming it shut behind her with a shove of her heel. With relief, she set the bags on the table, then called out. No one answered, but she thought she heard a small noise upstairs.

  The baby lay on his back in the crib, staring wide-eyed at the ceiling. Nancy huffed with affection, then reached for the little boy. She held his little body close, thinking furious thoughts. That man, she thought, breathing in the baby's honey curls. Unbelievable that he'd left the little one all alone while he went off to collect his blood money. He probably hadn't fed the baby either, even though she'd asked him to. Just assumed she'd do it, like she did everything else. If she didn't do it, he'd let the poor baby starve to death.

  The whole thing made Nancy slightly sick. All he cared about was the money, not the lives he’d torn apart. He'd assured her he'd give the baby back after he got the money, but she didn’t trust him.

  He was a miserable bastard. Always had been. Why she married him, she had no idea. The three years they had stayed together had almost driven her insane. He never considered her feelings, never hesitated to beat her or cheat on her. The day she walked out was the smartest thing she’d ever done.

  Then he called her with this crazy scheme. He made it sound like she could make some easy money, and since he already owed her so much,

  The problem was that she had never expected to feel anything for the child. Instead, she’d fallen in love with him the moment she saw him.

  She carried the baby to the bathroom, where she removed his pajamas, changed his diaper, then sponged him off with a cool cloth. All the while she cooed at him, staring into his big green eyes like a suppliant begging for mercy.

  Afterwards, she brought him downstairs to the kitchen, talking to him as she went. The kitchen was enormous and badly in need of repair, just like the rest of the house. At one point the pine-walled farmhouse might have been beautiful, but someone had poked holes in the walls in the living room, kitchen, pantry and master bedroom.

  When she put the baby in the high chair he fussed.

  “Ah,” she said sympathetically. “It’s too small for you, luv. And that old meanie won’t get us a new one.”

  Tears welled up in the little boy’s green eyes and she wrestled him out of the high chair. “Don’t need this nasty thing, do we?”

  She sat him on her lap, facing her, and felt the rigid little muscles of his body relax. He took the baby bottle she offered and sucked on it, then put it down and stared at her.

  “Don’t you like it? Drink your milk and you’ll grow up to be a big strong bloke.”

  The child reached toward her.

  “Oh, you darling!” she said, then bounced him up and down on her knee. At first he looked startled, but before long he laughed. It was a contagious sound. She laughed with him.

  “You’re a right beautiful little bloke,” she cooed. “Yes. Do you know how beautiful you are?”

  He gave her a half smile. She leaned over the table and stuck her finger into an open jar of peanut butter. Using her finger as a spoon, she held it to his lips. He ate it quickly, cleaning her finger in no time. When he was done, he stared at her and smacked his lips.

  She kissed his soft, round cheek. “Would you like some more?”

  She hefted him onto her hip and wandered across the kitchen. From out of the cupboard she pulled a loaf of Wonderbread, then grabbed a knife on her way back to the table. He watched her carefully while she made him half a peanut butter sandwich. She handed it to him and he ate the whole thing, smearing most of it all over his face. When he was done, he smacked his lips again.

  “All yummy in the tummy,” she said. The little boy laughed, a deep chuckle that started in his belly and bubbled up. “Mommy’s going to have some, too.” She helped herself to a spoonful of peanut butter. “Mmm. Good.”

  “Mommy,” he said.

  She put her face close to his. “Yes, Mommy.”

  He frowned slightly, then held out his open hands. “More.”

  While she made another half sandwich, he picked up his bottle and drank.

  Nancy hummed while she spread peanut butter on the bread. “Mr. Grouchy says you won’t eat, but we know he’s wrong, don’t we? He’s just a mean old thing. We don’t want him around.”

  After they’d finished their snack, Nancy took him back upstairs. When they got to the landing he sniffled.

  “Mommy,” he said, round eyes filling with tears.

  “Yes,” she said, grinning. “I’m your mommy now. And I promise I’ll love you just as much as your other mommy did. Maybe more.”

  Half an hour later he fell asleep in her arms and she laid him gently in the crib which had become his prison. For a few moments she stood watching him and couldn’t help noticing how restless he was, how he couldn’t seem to get comfortable. Once she thought she saw a tear hanging on his eyelash, then looked closer and decided it was her imagination.

  By now Phillip Austin would have paid the ransom. Rudy would be on his way home. It chilled her to the bone when she thought of what he might do to Todd after he walked in the door. More than once she had seen him look at the baby with dislike. But the baby was hers now. She wouldn’t let anything happened to him.

  She needed to get Todd away from Rudy, but she didn’t have much time. If she didn’t leave, God knows what Rudy might do to them. She had been the victim of his violent outbursts more than once, and she couldn’t let them happen to Todd. She didn’t have much money and had no idea what she was going to do, but she didn’t want to take any chances. She didn’t want the blood money either, though it sure would come in handy.

  A car went by and her heart pounded. She watched, relieved to see it wasn’t Rudy. He would be there soon. She grabbed the suitcase she had brought with her and threw the few things they had for the baby inside, followed by a change of clothes for herself. Everything else she had brought for herself would have to stay behind. She needed room for the baby’s things. When the suitcase was latched, she filled two bottles with the remaining from the icebox.

  She went back upstairs to the baby’s room. He was sleeping, his little rear end up in the air. He seemed so peaceful she hated to wake him up. When she lifted him, he opened his eyes, gazed sleepily at her, then went right back to sleep.

  Even though it was over seventy degrees outside, she wrapped him in two blankets, then put a hat on him to cover his curls. The hat was too big for him and he looked silly, but she couldn’t chance anyone recognizing him. That wouldn’t be too difficult, since his picture had been on the front page of every newspaper over the last few days.

  With the suitcase in one hand and the baby in her other arm, she walked to the nearest bus stop. The bus squealed to a stop by her and she climbed onboard, not knowing where she was going. All she knew was she had to get the baby as far away from Rudy as she could.

  Chapter Eleven

  At 8:30 the next morning, Virginia returned from a walk in Central Park. She picked up the newspaper from her front step and stared at the headline with disbelief.

  Austin Ransom Payoff Botched.

  What could have gone wrong? She clutched it under her arm as she opened the door of the brownstone, then settled in with her coffee, immersing herself in the article. Phillip had gone alone to meet the kidnapper. Amazing. The grandstander had actually stood up for his son. Her first thought was that for once Phillip had used his brain. Then she read on and discovered all he had gotten for both his money and his show of spirit was a bump on the head. She chuckled. That sounded more like the Phillip she knew. She blew on her coffee, smiling. The cops would be livid.

  But something else concerned her. Phillip had brought the money, as he had been asked, but
Todd had not been returned. Did the kidnappers intend to string them along forever?

  The thought made her ache for her niece. Laura must be devastated. She’d expected to have her baby back in her arms today. Virginia dialed Willow Pond, but the line was busy. She tried again five minutes later, and it was still busy.

  How would they ever find Todd now? According to the article, the kidnapper who had met with Phillip had worn the same clown’s mask he’d worn in the initial kidnapping. Phillip was able to describe a few things, however, as vague as they might be. He said the police should be looking for a guy in his early thirties, about six feet tall, with a medium build and an olive complexion. Virginia rolled her eyes. That described half the men she knew.

  She dialed her assistant’s number. Dependable Harry picked up the phone right away. “I heard all about it,” he said. “Call me if you need me. I'm fine to look after everything for now.”

  “I knew I could count on you, Henry. I'll call you in the morning.”

  She went into the library, already stifling hot in the midmorning sun, and sat at her desk. A photograph of Laura and Todd from the Christmas before caught her eye. He was dressed in a ridiculous little Santa Claus suit, and mother and son were laughing into the camera. She picked it up and gazed at it, absently tapping the back of it with one long finger.

  “Where are you, little one?”

  Setting the picture aside, she picked up her phone and dialed the police commissioner, Tony Jaeger. She was surprised when his deep tenor voice answered the phone.

  “Is your secretary napping?” she asked, trying not to sound flirtatious. She hoped this conversation didn’t end the way all their recent conversations had, with his proposing marriage and her gently letting him down. It would be so inappropriate for them to be anything other than lovers.

  “She's filing her nails. Listen. What's going on with that crazy family of yours? Everyone's talking about how bad things went last night. I didn’t know Phillip Austin had the guts, him being an actor and all.”

  “I'm as surprised as you are. But never mind him. Talk to me about the kidnapper.”

  “Well, he was smart enough to wear a disguise, so maybe he knows what he's doing. At least he knows that'll make him difficult to find. Thanks to Austin, he now has quarter of a million bucks. He can go anywhere and do whatever he wants. Only trouble is, no matter where he goes, folks are gonna recognize that baby.”

  “You think he’s still holding Todd?”

  “The kid's gotta be somewhere. He hasn’t turned up anywhere else.” He hesitated, then added, “Yet.”

  She shuddered. “Just thinking about the possibility that something’s happened to him is killing me,” said Virginia. “I can’t imagine what Laura must be going through. I need to know where the kidnapper’s hideout is, and I need to know fast.”

  “So do we all, sweetheart. We’re working on it. Both ransom letters were mailed from a post office in Bayside, Queens. I’ve got men searching the area as we speak.”

  “Dammit, Tony, he can’t get away with this.” Her voice quivered and she struggled to control it. “I don’t give a damn what we have to do. That little boy – Christ.”

  “I hate to hear you like this, Virginia.”

  “Does that mean you’ve had a change of heart since yesterday?” she said wryly, recalling the lousy dinner she'd had in the jail cell.

  “I heard what that S.O.B. Wilson put you through. I gave him hell this morning. He’ll go easy on you from now on. Otherwise I’ll see to it he’s out of a job.”

  “The man is an idiot. He has no idea what he’s doing.”

  “Let’s have dinner tonight. You pick the restaurant.”

  “Soon, Tony, I promise. Just … please get me the information. I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

  “How long do I have to wait before you make an honest man of me?”

  “Oh, Tony. You know damn well I can’t marry you.”

  ***

  The farm was in a middle class residential community in Bayside, Queens. Traditional farmhouses shared the northern sections with generic-looking new tract homes; Tudor style mansions occupied the southern sections. After four days of searching the area, the police got a tip about a farmhouse on 28th Avenue and 201st Street. A man and a woman had recently been seen coming and going at odd hours.

  Wilson interviewed one of the neighbors, a short, stocky man in his fifties. “What makes you think this house might be what we're looking for?” Wilson asked.

  “Before this, the house had been empty for two months,” the man said with a shrug.

  “Are you positive about this?” Breaks in the case were few and far between. Wilson wasn’t in the mood for a wild goose chase.

  “I’m telling you, I know what I saw.

  “In that case, why don’t you describe these people for me?”

  “Afraid I can’t help you there. They never went out during the day, just at night. So nothing stood out about them.”

  Wilson sighed, drumming his fingers on the man's kitchen table. “So you know what you saw, but you didn’t see anything.”

  “What I saw was a man and a woman who might as well have been vampires, Detective.”

  Wilson sighed. “What about the owners, then?”

  “The Pierces? They retired and moved to North Carolina. Their son, Geoffrey, was supposed to take the place over, but he’s a good-for-nothing bum.”

  “Can you get me an address for them in North Carolina?”

  “Sure.” He blinked at Wilson. “Right now?”

  ***

  Ben Wilson climbed the three steps to the front porch, hearing the old wood planks creak beneath his feet. On the porch sat two wicker chairs, white where the paint hadn’t worn off. He knocked on the door, waited a few moments, then knocked again. No answer. Wilson turned the doorknob, surprised to find it unlocked. He stepped into the foyer, turned right and entered an enormous kitchen, the kind his wife always complained she didn’t have. The refrigerator held an empty milk bottle and three bottles of beer. He took all four items out and dropped them in an evidence bag.

  Upstairs, the first three bedrooms were empty, apart from a few chewed up toothpicks scattered around the floor. He crouched and put the toothpicks in a smaller baggy, then opened the door of the last bedroom.

  The crib and the can on the floor were empty, who knew for how long. But the sweet pink aroma of baby powder wafting through the room was unmistakable.

  Chapter Twelve

  The three weeks Laura spent in East Hampton seemed like three years. Hopes of finding Todd alive, or even finding him at all, dwindled. She was miserable and rarely slept. She forgot to eat. And every day she grew more irritated, living in such close contact with Phillip. They had limited, cordial contact, but his selfishness and philandering made her wonder what she could ever have seen in him.

  One morning she woke up and realized she couldn’t stand being near him anymore. It was time to go home. She packed her suitcase and found Phillip in the dining room, reading the latest police report.

  “I'm leaving,” she announced.

  “All right,” he replied, barely glancing toward her. “I’ll call you. We’ll find him soon.”

  “I’m not so sure anymore,” she whispered, feeling her throat tighten.

  Phillip said nothing. She wondered if he'd even heard.

  Laura tossed her luggage into the car and started down the long driveway, purposefully keeping her eyes averted from the pond. Once she was on the road, she decided to stop at Virginia’s brownstone. If anything, her time at Willow Pond had left her starved for decent company.

  Virginia answered the door and greeted Laura with a broad smile. “Laura,” she said, folding her niece into an embrace. “I'm so glad to see you.”

  They sat in the same living room where she and Phillip had been married. The beautiful room hadn’t changed a bit. Its high ceilings, wood floors and original moldings dated back to the 1880s. Despite the sour memory o
f her wedding, Laura still loved the room.

  “Is that Mozart I hear, Virginia?”

  “Umhmm. Clarinet Quintet. Nice, isn’t it?”

  “The sound is so clear.”

  “I know.” She gestured toward the other side of the room. “This phonograph’s the latest from Victor. It plays all the 78s. Better than those old Victrolas any day.”

  Laura walked to the phonograph and ran her finger appreciatively over the dark wood. It was a beautifully crafted piece, just like everything else in the room. It always amazed Laura how Virginia came off so crass in one environment, so dignified and cultured in another. Here in this room she was in her element, surrounded by things she loved. For some reason, Laura was more comfortable with her here in this place than when they were anywhere else.

  “The Chinese inlay is the latest thing too, isn’t it?”

  Virginia smiled wryly. “You know me ...”

  Laura glanced at her, but Virginia was looking away. Ever since Phillip's bungled attempt to pay the ransom, her aunt had seemed preoccupied. She was more attentive than ever, but Laura had the strange impression she was keeping secrets. More secrets than usual, that is. Laura knew Virginia had people looking for Todd and the kidnapper, but when she asked, Virginia put her perfectly manicured finger to her lips and smiled. Laura took this to mean it was better if she didn’t know.

  They sat on the couch together in a comfortable quiet.

  “You can stay here, you know,” Virginia said after a few moments. “As long as you want. Now’s no time to be alone.”

  Laura shook her head. “That’s a nice offer, but I can’t. I can't hide from life, you know? The best thing for me to do is face what’s happened. That’s what you always do.”

  Virginia nodded and patted the back of her niece's hand. “I understand. But Laura, remember. I’m here anytime you need me.”