Murder Across The Ocean

by Charlene Wexler

  Chapter 15

  Restless, Cate tiptoed out of the bedroom, careful to not wake Joseph, more so for her benefit than his. She was upset at his calm attitude over the kidnapping, and she didn’t want to deal with him. She’d hardly slept, tossing and turning while he was out like a light. Five days had passed and still her grandmother hadn't been found. Damn this police department!

  Tigger followed Cate down to the kitchen as fast as her little legs could go. Cate pulled back the curtains from the window to check on their police protection. The street lamp cast a light that cut through the dark of night and rested upon the sleeping bobby in his large black police car. As she watched him, he snorted, yawned, and shook himself awake, then drank from his thermos. She looked down the street. God knows who could be lurking about while he slept.

  The digital clock on her stainless steel refrigerator read 5:03. She filled the teapot with water while Tigger, realizing there was no emergency, stretched out on one of the kitchen chairs and promptly fell back asleep. With a mug next to her, Cate went about warming up a plate of scones, then opened her computer to pictures, clicked on the family folder, and reminisced. She wished her mom and dad would hurry and get here already. She needed family around.

  She turned off the large computer she and Joseph shared and turned to her private iPad, where she looked up any information she could find on FBI agent Jordan Gould. She told herself she wanted to check that the investigation was in good hands. After all, Gould and Scotland Yard had bungled the kidnapping.

  There was nothing but praise for Jordan’s time at Harvard and his work in the FBI. She was not surprised to see comments like he was brilliant, thorough, and exacting in his work, and she could surmise that he was also very competitive. She closed her iPad on his biography when she heard Joseph stirring in the upstairs bedroom. She would return to it at another time.

  By the time Joseph came downstairs, dressed for work, Cate had worked herself into a state of anger and fear. He opened the front door and brought in the morning newspaper.

  She snatched it from his hands. Her grandmother’s picture was on the front page with the headline: Wheeler’s Girlfriend, Dead or Alive?

  Cate shouted, “Why are they so insensitive?”

  Joseph put his arm around her, “They know nothing, darling. They are just trying to sell papers.”

  Quickly, she turned on him, brushing off his embrace. “You are no better. Joseph, I’m crazy with worry about my grandmother, and you could not give a damn. How could you go to work and leave me alone?”

  He moved towards her again. “Cate, my dear, it can’t be helped. I am a junior barrister, and we are in the middle of an important case. What could I do if I stayed home again? Scotland Yard is doing all they can.” He reached for her shoulders to comfort her.

  Again she pushed him away, dropping the paper on the floor. “God damn you. Get away from me!”

  Ignoring her outburst, Joseph crossed his arms across his chest. “Cate, you ought to go back to school. You may not graduate at this rate.”

  “You don’t understand. My grandmother could be dead by the time your bloody police department finds her. She has been gone five days already! How can you have no feelings for my family, while you expect me to cater to your stuffy father and selfish, arrogant stepmother? They have expressed little to no concern over my grandmother! How insensitive can your family be? It’s unnatural!”

  Again he moved towards her. “Now, you know that isn’t true. My father is doing what he can. I’m sorry, my dear. I will get a replacement at court and stay here with you. I understand you are upset.”

  Her voice rose to a scream. “You understand I’m upset,” she mimicked. She turned away from him, her voice turning cold. “Get out of here. Constable Ascher will take care of me. I don’t need you. Or your fucking family.”

  Before Joseph could fully realize the stinging Cate’s words caused him, there was a knock at the door at the same time as the teapot screeched on the stove. Cate moved away from Joseph and opened the door, wiping the tears from her eyes. She greeted Constable Ascher, the bobby who she had spied napping in his car. She moved to the stove, turned off the gas, and went to the counter and poured the constable a cup of tea.

  “Morning, all.” Constable Ascher could sense the tension in the room and tried to make his greeting sound as upbeat as possible, given the circumstances.

  “I see you have awakened from your catnap. Any news?” Cate asked as she ignored Joseph, who stood at the door, still wondering if he should leave.

  Cate was still angry from the previous night, when she lay awake worrying while he peacefully slept. Cate was not a patient soul. When a problem presented itself, Cate needed to solve it, and it was killing her just sitting and waiting. Powerless wasn't a feeling Cate was use to feeling. Joseph was happy to let the police do their job.

  “Not as far as I know, but that Yank plans to come by and talk to you,” Ascher said, as he sat down, sipped his tea, and bit into a warm blueberry scone which Cate had placed before him on a plate. Ascher, a balding man of medium height with an angular nose and narrow face, was just a few years from retirement. He was good company, but hardly an adequate guard. “I, eh, only dropped off for a few winks, ma’am. I’ve been up all night watching the window and all the phones. My superiors are concerned that there haven't been any ransoms demands."

  At the mention of the Yank, Cate couldn’t help but feel her heart leap. She closed her eyes, remembering his hands on her as he roughly grabbed her and brought her into the house, taking charge and protecting her. She shook her head to clear it, opened her eyes, and turned and looked straight at Joseph.

  “Get out of here,” she said, the ice in her tone still remaining. “The court waits for you.”

  Joseph watched her. A frown wrinkled her forehead and narrowed her eyes. He wasn’t sure what he should do until Cate handed him his briefcase and softened her look with a half smile.

  “Go, goodbye. I'll call if there is any news. Tell your father… Tell him I appreciate his help.” Lord Lunt had put pressure on all law departments to speed up the search for Lori. So far, it had not helped.

  She poured herself a mug of tea with a little milk and sat down at the kitchen table across from Constable Ascher.

  “He just doesn’t understand how special my Gram is to me. She is more than family. She’s my best friend, the one who understands me better than my parents.”

  Ascher bit into his scone with the clotted cream and tried to listen to Cate, though she was really talking more to herself.

  “Once, when I was nine years old, my parents cancelled our spring vacation trip to Arizona because my dad was too busy to leave. They didn’t understand why I was so upset since they had asked Gram to come to Chicago instead. Gram understood. Do you know what she did? She flew to Chicago, picked me up, and we flew back to Arizona the same day. Her friend Rain met us at the airport, and we went on an Indian retreat, sleeping in tents in the mountains with the coyotes howling. Another time, she took me to Vegas. When I was upset because I was too young to gamble, she had some slot machines brought to our room.”

  Ascher asked, “What did your parents think about that?”

  “Gram and I had a rule: what happened in Vegas, stayed in Vegas—and Arizona!”

  “Did she fight your battles with your parents?”

  “No, she said what happened in Chicago stayed in Chicago!”

  “So, your Gram was boss in Arizona, and your parents were boss in Chicago?”

  Cate sat back to think about it before answering. “Nobody was boss. Gram said she and my parents were like judges, and if I learned how to be a good lawyer, I could sway the judge my way.”

  “So that’s why you became a lawyer?”

  Cate’s face broke into a smile. “I guess so! I always loved a challenge.” She rose from her chair. “More tea?”

  “No thanks,” Ascher answered. “The scone was lovely. Much obliged.”

  Cate
put the kettle down and turned towards the steps. “I’m going to change my clothes.”

  Upstairs in her bedroom, Cate put on something a little nicer than her old blue jeans. She picked out a blue cashmere sweater and a new pair of dark, skinny jeans, and then added a dab of lipstick. She eyed her running clothes with desire; her shorts, top, Nike shoes, and fanny pack had been retired by order of the police. They wouldn’t let her out alone, fearing she too could be kidnapped.

  On the way back down, Cate stopped at the guest bedroom. Her gaze darted to the bed where Tigger lay on a scrunched up piece of material. Upon closer examination, she realized it was her grandmother's pink nylon nightgown. A tear trickled down her cheek as she remembered waking her grandmother just a few days ago. Grandma Lori had looked so petite and vulnerable in the flimsy garment as she took the phone from Cate. Suddenly the room felt cold and empty.

  The loud hum of car engines pulled Cate’s thoughts back to the present. She looked out the window and saw several news vans pull up to her flat. Eight days after the murder, publicity about Wheeler had slowed down to a crawl. Now, with the kidnapping the buzz throughout the city and across the ocean, press coverage was back to an all time high. Amazing how people lived off of others’ misfortunes.

  She rushed down the stairs and found Constable Ascher standing by the open front door. As soon as she appeared, reporters holding mics, iPads, and pens, crowded around her in the living room. They bombarded her with questions in several languages besides English.

  “Who is Mrs. Brill to Wheeler?”

  “Does she have the hidden money?”

  “Did they find her?”

  “Are you her granddaughter?”

  “Sign here for an exclusive story and we will pay you big time!”

  “Sorry, Miss Cate. I thought it was Gould paying a visit!” Constable Ascher looked glum and guilty, but he did his best to push out the reporters, more with his body than with his hands. “Move along, she isn’t speaking with anyone. No questions, I’m sorry. Move along!”

  “Get out!” Cate screamed as she pushed the news people out and tried to close the door. The e-mails, calls, and texts were easy to ignore, but an army of men and woman wasn’t. She really flipped when she saw herself on the television. Someone in the crowd was using instant digital equipment. She was beginning to think Joseph was smart getting out of the house.

  Jordan Gould suddenly walked through the door. With the help of two police officers, he was able to remove the interlopers from the house, but not from the front lawn.

  “Out, out! Inspector Holmes is the only one giving reports on the situation.” Ascher was still trying to control the press as Jordan gently pushed Cate up the stairs toward the second floor. “After you,” he said, pointing to her bedroom. When Cate resisted, he held up his arms. “Don’t attack me. I’m trying to get you away from the press.”

  “No shoving,” Cate warned, climbing the steps.

  “Lesson learned. I’m not shoving, I’m merely urging you up the steps.”

  “Stop playing around.”

  “I’m not, honest.”

  Gould followed Cate into her bedroom. She shut the door and moved away from him. “Jordan, are you any closer to finding my grandmother?”

  “Yes and no.”

  “What the hell kind of answer is that?”

  “We have every reason to believe your grandmother is alive. Wheeler’s girlfriend, Suzi Wu, works for Wheeler’s Chinese investors. We found out she is on her way here from China, traveling on a passport identifying her as Suzanne Green. I, uh, I have a feeling she may not be traveling as the jet-set socialite she fancies herself to be. She may be disguised or, at the very least, dressed down.

  “I received e-mail from my research team identifying her as being born in Chicago to a Zi Wu and a Steven Brill. Is she related to your family? Would you happen to have any photographs of her in her younger years perhaps? Seems too much of a coincidence to not be related. If she is, your grandmother may be part of some plan to disappear with Wheeler’s money. Maybe it’s time for you to come clean.” Jordan glanced at Cate’s unmade bed and turned away.

  Cate stood with her hands on her hips. “So, this has become another one of your interrogations, huh? I have to come clean.” Cate guffawed and shook her head. “Unbelievable. Look, stop accusing me, stop accusing her, and go find her. I heard of Suzi Brill, sure. My uncle Steven was married several times, once to a Chinese girl. She was a very young prostitute. It’s the family scandal, really. Suzi is Uncle Steve and the Chinese woman’s daughter. Ol’ Uncle Steve. He’s since passed on. I can check on my dad’s Facebook page and go into his photo albums. He may have one of Suzi in there, I don’t know. My dad is flying in today, so if you have more questions, ask him later. He knows more of the family history.” She paused, then asked, "How did you know Suzi was coming to London?"

  “Cate, I work for the FBI. We have our people watching Suzi. She definitely has something to hide now that Wheeler has been murdered. She’s up to her neck in trouble and might feel threatened.. Who knows who is after her now? She may very well need protection as well. Or she may be part of the kidnapping. Either way, we’re figuring she will lead us to your grandmother. I’ll be back later to question your dad, but I’d like you to check the photo albums now.”

  “It’s not terribly convenient for me…”

  “Please,” Jordan stressed. “I will have more men on the house to ward off the press.”

  “My printer is up here, so you’ll have to go into the kitchen and get my iPad. Please,” mocked Cate, her arms crossed over her chest.

  When he returned, Cate and Jordan sat down at a computer desk in the bedroom and pored over one of her father’s Facebook photo albums until…

  “There!” exclaimed Cate. “Here’s a photo of them on vacation. That’s her.” Jordan sat close beside Cate as she turned the little computer for him to see. “That’s Suzi, the model jet setter.”

  Jordan saw the photo of a pretty young woman wearing tiny wireframe glasses, short in stature, probably in her late teens, smiling and standing between her parents in front of a lake, her dark hair in long pony tails, and dressed in a thin green t-shirt with a yellow peace sign emblazoned on it and worn blue jeans.

  “She looks like a kid!” Jordan scowled. Turning to Cate, he caught a whiff of her heady floral perfume and saw the curve and weight of her breasts against the thin fabric of her blue cashmere sweater. He closed his eyes and swallowed the lump in his throat.

  “I think she was a kid. In her teens, anyway. That’s the best I’ve got. She doesn’t quite fit the jet set, Wheeler type, does she?” Cate asked, smirking. “But it’s a good close-up of her face, so… Are you putting this photo through any database?” Cate went about copying and printing the color photo for Jordan as he glanced again at the bed, then at Cate, and tried to push thoughts of a more prurient nature out of his head.

  “Well, we ran a check on her, and she doesn’t have a record. We’re going to use this to ID her.”

  “You’re not using the MORIS, the iris scanning device?” Cate asked, wanting him to know he wasn’t dealing with a slouch. She knew all the latest technology in criminology. “You know, where you take a photo of them and it scans their iris and then the MORIS system will analyze the special unique features of the iris, matching it up to…”

  “It won’t be necessary. She’s not a criminal—yet. We’ve got ways of identifying her with this photo and information from the Internet."

  “Sounds mysterious.”

  “It’s not.”

  Taking the copied photo, he started to leave, but then stopped to turn and face Cate. He put his hand gingerly upon her shoulder. “Cate, I’m really on your side. We had a bad start, and I’m sorry about that.” He cautiously took her hand in his, and they stood there a few seconds, reluctant to let go.

  Cate pulled her hand away and said, “Find my grandmother. She has to be alive." Cate lived in the here and now. In her wor
ld, the thought that Lori could be dead was not a given.

  As Jordan turned to leave, Cate's glance roamed over his long, lean, trim torso. She grinned.

  He walked out of the house carefully hiding the pictures as he tried to avoid the press who encircled him with questions. He waved his hands at them and speeded up his movement towards the car.

  "Come on, handsome. Give me some help. I'm from the USA," one nice looking brunette said as she approached him. "What are you hiding in that envelope?"

  Jordan remained quiet as he slid into his car and slowly moved it back from the crowded driveway and onto the road.

  Actually, he didn't need the picture, but it was nice seeing Cate again. He had already hacked into the necessary computers. Her father might be helpful. Many things about this case were not adding up. There was no ransom note or other contact from the Brill kidnappers. No demands. There was no ransacking of the hotel room. If someone was looking for Wheeler's hidden money, why didn't they kidnap him instead of killing him? And most frustrating of all for him was not finding the Brill woman. After five days of no contact, kidnap victims are usually dead. Their only hope now was Wheeler's girlfriend.

  Chapter 16

  Suzi stepped off the plane, exhausted. Not only had she flown economy, wedged next to a woman with a crying baby, but also the flight had been delayed by six hours. What a mess this had turned into. If Lori Brill hadn’t turned up and got Josh all swept up in some bullshit reenactment of some stupid high school romance, she would have met Josh and walked off with his keys and Swiss numbers. Her employers would have paid her handsomely, and no one would have been killed. She wished she could just run away and hide, but she knew that wasn't possible now. Stealing money from thieves was okay in her book, but murder wasn’t her game. The immigration officer looked at her passport before starring directly at her.

  "Please take off that scarf. What is your name?"