“Mr. Carpenter, neither Tommy Infante nor Gerald Downey inhabited the world you are talking about. And if they did, their involvement would have been insignificant.”
“You seem to know a lot about them.”
Divac and Turner make eye contact. “I have thorough people in my employ.” It’s clear that Turner has done some research and briefed his boss on me and my case.
“Well, someone thought Gerald Downey was significant enough to slit his throat, and it wasn’t Tommy Infante.”
“Mr. Carpenter, I understand your obligation to your client. But these are dangerous people, and they have no qualms about killing. For some of them, killing is the only thing they know. They will not let you enter their world and survive.”
He says it without much emotion, but it shakes me up a bit. It feels almost like a threat, even if he wouldn’t be the person to carry it out. “You trying to cheer me up?”
He smiles, but it is without humor. “I’m trying to save your life.”
If it’s a saying, then it’s wrong: a watched cell phone does ring. Stephanie Manning had been watching one for days on end, from the moment she received it in the FedEx package. And finally it rang, so loudly that it seemed shocking in the quiet apartment, but actually no more loudly than any other cell phone. It just seemed deafening to her.
It wasn’t a smartphone, just a cell phone, and Stephanie had actually gone online to make sure she knew how to operate it. In her nervousness she didn’t want to press the wrong button and accidentally disconnect a call.
So Stephanie pressed the right button, put the phone to her ear, and said “Hello?” She hoped and expected, and even prayed, that she would hear Eric’s voice on the other end.
And she did. “Stephanie, it’s me.”
“Eric, thank God. How are you?”
“I’m doing okay. Steph, I know you don’t know what’s going on, and you’re worried, but everything is going to work out. You need to believe me. But I need your help.”
She had a million questions she wanted to ask, but she wanted to give him the room to volunteer information. So she settled on, “What can I do?”
“I need some money.”
“I’ll give you whatever I have,” she said.
“Do you know where Zoe is? I saw her picture online in that newspaper.”
“I saw her, Eric. I even played with her. She’s fine. Andy Carpenter, the lawyer … she’s with his partner in the rescue foundation.”
“Can you bring her to me?” he asked.
“I don’t think so. I asked if I could have her, but they were worried that if she was stolen once, somebody might try to do it again. And then she and I would be in danger.”
“I was the one who had her stolen,” he said. “So there would be no reason to worry. But you can’t tell them that.”
“I can try to get her,” she said. “Maybe since nothing has happened since then, they’d be willing to change their minds.”
“Please try. It’s so lonely here. Steph, will you come? I can’t wait to see you.”
She didn’t hesitate. “Of course I will. Can I stay?”
“I wish you could, but it’s too dangerous. I need some time to figure things out. Have the police talked to you?”
“No.”
“Then you should be fine coming here. I don’t see how anyone would know to follow you. Just be careful.”
“Where am I going?”
He gave her an address, and she repeated it to him as she wrote it down, since she didn’t want to take a chance on getting it wrong. What she didn’t realize was that Eric was not the only one she was repeating it for.
Healy had done his homework. He had learned about the relationship between Eric and Stephanie, and figured he might try to reach her. So he had broken into her house and placed three very simple devices in various places inside. From that moment on he had heard everything that was said, which until then wasn’t very much.
There had been no downside to placing the devices; in the unlikely event that she found them, no one could ever trace them back to him. The potential upside to doing so was great, and it had just paid huge dividends.
“I’ll see you soon,” said Stephanie.
Healy smiled. He’d see Eric even sooner.
There are many terrible people in this world. Sometimes it feels like they are everywhere … terrorists, murderers, Dallas Cowboy fans … but the one really evil group of people who get by relatively undetected are the slimeballs who make children’s toys.
Now, I don’t want to paint all the toymakers with the same brush; the only truly despicable ones are those that make the toys that have to be assembled. And I especially hate those who put “minimal assembly required” on the outside of the package.
There is no such thing as “minimal assembly.” There is “assembly,” and there is “no assembly.” That’s it, no other choices, and I am here to tell you that “assembly” in any form is a vile, disgusting thing.
First of all, they don’t use written directions anymore; instead they show pictures, diagrams, drawings. They are absolutely impossible to follow. If NASA used diagrams like this, Neil Armstrong would have gotten out of the capsule and taken one small step onto Connecticut.
The few words they do use to explain the stupid diagrams are in twelve different languages, none of them English. And the one they claim is English is a distortion of the language that cannot be understood by me or any other English-speaking person.
Then comes the most diabolical aspect of the entire process: they always leave out a piece. Every. Single. Time. Sometimes they leave out two or three pieces. I don’t know why they do it; it’s probably some revenge thing from when they were children themselves.
As hard to believe as it might sound, today I am putting together a parking garage. I have no idea why Ricky wanted it, but Laurie bought it for him, and it’s almost as big as an actual parking garage. She either didn’t see the “assembly required” tag on the box, or more likely was unconcerned by it.
Right now it looks like a parking garage in Syria that just had air strikes called in on it, as it is in about four hundred pieces all over the room. And yes, there are pieces missing; at least four by my last count. Of course, if I could read French or Chinese, I’d be sure.
What I need now is an interruption, someone or something to get me the hell out of this room. Mercifully, it comes in the form of a ringing doorbell. Moments later Laurie comes into the room and says, “Stephanie Manning is here; she wants to talk to you.”
I stand up. “Damn, I was just about to put the finishing touches on this thing.”
Laurie looks at the pieces strewn all over the room. “Yeah, it’s really coming together.”
I go out to the den, where Stephanie is waiting for me. “Hello, Mr. Carpenter, I—”
“Andy.”
She nods. “Andy. I know I should have called first, but I’m really anxious, and I thought it would be okay if I came over.”
“It’s fine, Stephanie. What can I do for you?”
“I’ve been thinking about it … and I’d like to take Zoe home.”
“Why?”
“She loves me, and I think she misses Eric. I think being with me will make her happier.”
“We talked about this, and you agreed it could be dangerous.”
She nods. “I know, but nothing has happened since, right? I’ll be careful, and if there’s anything unusual, I’ll tell you right away. I promise.”
My instincts are to once again refuse her request, but I’m reconsidering on the fly. “Have you heard from Eric?” I ask, wanting to see if she’ll tell me about the FedEx package.
She shakes her head and lies through her teeth. “No.” Then, “Having Zoe around will make me feel like I have a piece of him with me.”
I pretend to think about it, but my mind is already made up. “Okay. I’ll set it up.”
The look of surprise and relief on her face is palpable. “Thank you
, Mr.… Andy.”
We arrange for her to pick up Zoe tomorrow here at the house; I’ll ask Willie to bring her over in the morning. She thanks me again and leaves.
Once she’s gone, I go back into Ricky’s room. Laurie is on the floor with the parking garage, which now looks exactly like a parking garage. “I was just about to finish that,” I say.
She nods. “I know. I saw that.”
“Did you find the missing pieces?”
“There were no missing pieces.”
I nod. “Just as I suspected.”
Now that the parking garage issue has been settled, I tell Laurie about my conversation with Stephanie, and my agreement to let her take care of Zoe.
“I thought you were concerned that somebody might come after Zoe again,” she says.
“I was, but no one has, and I don’t think anyone will. I think it was Eric who sent Downey to take her.”
“Why won’t he send someone else to try again?”
“I think he has; I’m pretty sure he sent Stephanie here today. Her attitude about it was totally different. The other day she thought it was right that Zoe stay with Willie; now she seemed almost desperate to get her. I think Eric contacted her and put her up to it.”
“So Stephanie and Zoe will lead you to Eric?” she asks.
“I think so.”
“And if you’re wrong, and somebody else is after that dog, for whatever reason? Won’t Stephanie and Zoe be in danger?”
“No. We’ve got Marcus watching her, so now he’ll be watching them. No one is in danger when Marcus is on the case.”
“So Marcus is going to follow them?”
I nod. “Me and Marcus. Me and Marcus can handle anything.”
Professor Charles Horowitz was tired of being scared. He’d been living in a perpetual state of fear ever since Michael Caruso had been killed, and it had only gotten worse when Eric Brantley went on the run.
Actually, if he were to be honest with himself, he would admit that he had been afraid ever since Brantley came to him with the idea. At first he hadn’t taken it seriously, hadn’t thought that Brantley and Caruso could pull it off. But then, when it took shape and became real, he had encouraged them, even prodded them, to pursue it. And he had enthusiastically signed on as their partner.
Horowitz was an introspective person, and could detach himself enough to be amazed at how the prospect of wealth had changed all of them. They were academics, which by definition meant that they had never pursued the big payoff. But this was going to be so large that they got caught up in it, and never looked back.
Until it was too late.
Horowitz was sure they knew about him, knew that he was part of it. Brantley said that he told them that. He said they were all going to be partners, and they should know who their partners were.
He wasn’t sure what happened to destroy the arrangement, what Caruso and Brantley had said or done to result in the disaster it had become. They must have done something to make themselves seem like a threat.
Horowitz didn’t want to go to the authorities; that would just result in his own imprisonment. He was out of his league with this, but sensed that his only chance would be to make the people they were dealing with understand that he was not a threat at all, but rather that he was willing to keep his end of the bargain.
So he had contacted them, leaving a message in the manner that Brantley had once described. He felt uncomfortable doing so, not wanting to say anything incriminating into a tape that could then be used to cause his undoing.
He wrote out what he was going to say, and then read it into their machine. He said that he did not want to cause anyone any trouble, that he merely wanted to deliver on the promise that he and “his partner” had made.
The truth was that he really wanted out, that no money was worth the fear he felt. But he believed they wouldn’t accept that, and might see him as a continuing threat. So he was willing to go along, because it was essentially the only card he had to play.
And then he waited. And waited some more.
But there was nothing. Not a word. He almost saw it as comical; perhaps he had called a wrong number, and left the message on some old lady’s voice mail. Since then she’s been playing it for her friends, and they’ve all been wondering what it could mean.
But, of course, very little about this was comical for Horowitz. Not provoking any reaction was incredibly disconcerting. Did it mean they accepted his terms? And if they hadn’t accepted the terms, why had they not come after him?
He didn’t know that world, had no idea how they operated. Maybe this was standard operating procedure, or maybe they were out of the country, and hadn’t even heard the message. Or maybe they had washed their hands of him, and had moved on. That would be the ideal situation, but Horowitz had no way of knowing if it was fact.
So for the time being, he led a very careful life, only going to work and then going straight home. But the fear was ever present; he likened it to soldiers walking on a trail, knowing a sniper could be out there. Or perhaps they might step on and detonate an IED. They could die in an instant, without ever realizing it. Every moment could be their last.
That was his fear, and one evening when he arrived home, he knew in an instant that it was warranted. He opened his front door, and there in front of him was the scariest human being he had ever seen.
“Hello, Professor. My name is Alek.”
They had gotten his message.
Laurie calls Marcus to update him on what is happening. She tells him that it isn’t necessary to follow Stephanie when she is not with Zoe, because if she is going to meet up with Eric, there’s little doubt that she will take the dog with her. We are not worried about losing her, because Marcus has slipped a small GPS device inside the fender of her car.
Laurie’s instructions for him are to contact her when Stephanie is on the move, so that I can join in following her. If we are going to find Eric, then I am going to be the one to talk with him.
Of course, if she flies wherever she is going, then we’ll have to improvise. But we’ll have a good advance idea if that is going to happen, because she would be taking an airline crate with her to house Zoe. My guess is that she will drive, especially if Eric is in Maine, where the FedEx package came from.
Eric is not a target of mine, unless it turns out that he killed Downey. My goal in this is purely to defend my client; whatever else is going on in Eric’s life is not my problem, though it could present me with a moral, if not legal, dilemma.
Eric is a fugitive, charged with the murder of his partner and friend Michael Caruso. If I learn of his whereabouts, I have no affirmative obligation to report it to the police, either as an attorney or a private citizen. But if I truly believe that a murderer is on the loose, then I would morally have to tell the authorities where he is. Other people could conceivably be in danger.
I’ll deal with that when the time comes. Circumstances will dictate my actions. It is hard to picture not alerting the authorities to Eric’s whereabouts, but right now that is not my concern; I am focused on learning whatever I can to help me defend Tommy Infante.
I walk Ricky, Tara, and Sebastian to school, and when I get back, Willie has arrived with Zoe. She, Tara, and Sebastian do the obligatory sniffing, and all seems fine between them. Tara appears unimpressed, with a look on her face that says, “Another one? You’re pushing it, Carpenter.” I’m sure I’ll hear about this later.
I look out the window and see Stephanie pull up in her car. As we planned, Laurie goes out to greet her at the car and bring her inside. We leave her in the den with Willie and Zoe, while Laurie and I go into the kitchen to make coffee.
“There’s a suitcase in her car,” she says.
“What about an airline crate?”
She shakes her head. “No.” Then, “I’ll call Marcus.”
The presence of the suitcase indicates a strong likelihood that Stephanie will be bringing Zoe directly to Eric, though it’s not a slam
dunk that it will happen. But it seems worth it to have me meet up with Marcus right away to do whatever following is necessary.
“I wish I could go with you,” Laurie says, knowing she can’t do so because of the need to be home with Ricky.
“We could turn it into a family vacation,” I say. “A trip to Maine to talk to a possible murderer. It’ll give him something to tell his friends about.”
She smiles. “Maybe he can bring the murder weapon to show-and-tell.”
We go back into the room to talk to Stephanie. There is no reason to drag this out: I’m sure Marcus is here already, doing the invisible Marcus routine outside. When we walk into the room, Stephanie checks her watch. I would bet anything she is heading straight from here to meet Eric, although based on my level of success betting sports, she’s probably going to the dentist.
“Be really careful and alert,” I say. “And follow your instincts. If you have any cause for concern, any at all, call me.”
“I will,” she says. “But we’ll be fine. It will be so good to have Zoe with me.”
“Are you taking her straight home now?”
She hesitates, and then says, “Yes.”
Willie looks unhappy throughout this whole process, and I realize that we haven’t had a chance to tell him what is going on. Once Stephanie leaves, I bring him up to date, but it doesn’t seem to go over that well. “You’re using Zoe as bait?” he asks.
In a way I am, and that has bothered me, but I truly don’t think she is in any danger, and I tell him so. “I’ll tell Marcus to make Zoe his top priority.”
That seems to pacify him some, but I don’t have time to discuss it. Marcus is in a car out front, waiting for me to join him. If all goes according to plan, Marcus and I are going to be driving to Maine.
It’s fair to say that I am not relishing the idea of seven hours of “alone time” with Marcus.
Eric Brantley didn’t know much about being a fugitive. But he did sense that one of the first things they would teach in fugitive school would be not to fall into a pattern, or become predictable. Yet Eric had, in fact, fallen into a pattern. It was a way to keep himself sane and thinking clearly.
Who Let the Dog Out? Page 8
