Downstairs in the luggage department on the first floor Don bought a red leatherette suitcase with white leatherette straps and packed his clothing purchases into it. In the cosmetics department, still on the ground floor, and near the back exit doors, he bought a clothes brush, a hair brush, a tortoise comb, and a toothbrush. He added these items to the red leatherette suitcase. He paid for all of his purchases with a Jordan Marsh credit card that belonged to his wife, a card he had removed from her purse the night before while she was busy in the kitchen cooking his dinner.
Don crossed off 5, 6, and 7 on his three-by-five card, left Jordan Marsh, and ripped the credit card into two halves as he reached the trash can. He dropped the two halves into the can. He unlocked his Mark IV, placed the red suitcase on the back seat beside his own, and drove south on the Dixie Highway, turning left on Twenty-seventh Avenue to the Lilliput School in Gables-by-the-Sea.
Ms. Dubina, the headmistress of Lilliput School, didn’t like it. She didn’t like it at all. “I’ve told parents, Mr. Luchessi, and I’ve told them again and again, orally and in writing. We don’t like to have children taken out of school for doctor or dental appointments during school hours. There’s plenty of time after school for such appointments. Marie’s only been at school two hours, and what little she’s learned this morning will be knocked out of her head completely by the excitement of going to the orthodontist.”
“I’m sorry,” Don lied, “but the orthodontist said that it was at least a two-hour wiring job, and we didn’t tell Marie about it. She’s afraid of dentists, you see—”
“That’s perfectly normal,” Ms. Dubina said. “So am I—”
“At any rate,” Don said, “her mouth’ll be pretty sore when he’s finished, so I won’t bring her back this afternoon.”
“Very well. But next time, I want at least three days notice in advance, whether you tell your daughter about it or not. You have your problems with Marie, and I have mine. Your daughter, Mr. Luchessi, is not a tractable child.”
“I know. My wife spoils her, I think.”
“Somebody has.” Ms. Dubina nodded grimly. “Wait here. I’ll get her…”
Marie was so excited about getting out of school to go with her Daddy to Disney World that she almost wet her pants. Three blocks away from the Lilliput School Don had to stop at Lum’s to let Marie go to the bathroom. When she came out of the restroom, he bought her a Lumburger and a stein of root beer, and then they were on their way again, driving north on I-95.
Now that he was actually on the road to somewhere with his daughter by his side and with the ten thousand dollars worth of silver safely stowed in the trunk, Don allowed warm waves of elation to wash over him. His skin tingled, and his face was hot with pleasure. He had done it by himself, without any help from Eddie, or Hank, or anyone else. The black depression that had clutched him every morning for the past two weeks, after he had learned of Eddie’s transfer to Chicago, was completely gone. Until he had made his decision and his new plans, Don had been popping Librium capsules like peanuts.
Marie, sitting quietly beside him in her school uniform (white scalloped blouse, pink pinafore, and white patent leather shoes), looked solemnly out the window at the flat green countryside.
That had been his only mistake, Don thought, telling Marie he was taking her to Disney World. Of course, Disney World was nowhere near Tampa, where they would be looking for him, if they looked, and he could be damned certain that Clara would demand a search, but all the same, there would be at least a one-day delay if he took Marie on an all-day visit to Disney World. Was there any way out of it? He guessed not. He didn’t want the girl to suspect anything, so he would stay overnight near Orlando—but not in Orlando—and take her on the damned tour tomorrow. Marie’s excitement had died down, the doubled excitement of missing almost a full day of school today and another day tomorrow, with the Disney World trip thrown in as well, and for at least five minutes she hadn’t said a word and she hadn’t squirmed.
“Daddy?”
“Hmm?”
“How come Mommy isn’t going with us?”
Don cleared his throat. It was time to tell Marie the truth. If not now, when? So why not now, and get it over with?
“Your mommy isn’t coming because you and I, after we see Disney World tomorrow, are leaving her for good. From now on, it will just be you and me, sweetheart, and we’ll never see your mommy again.”
“We’ll never see Mommy again?” Marie’s voice broke.
“No. Never.”
Marie began to cry.
Shit, Don thought, maybe I should’ve waited until tomorrow to tell her—while she was having fun, like watching an exciting puppet show or shaking hands with Mickey Mouse, or something like that, so she wouldn’t have time to think about her mother. All the same, he was a little surprised by her tears. If Marie had told him once she had told him a thousand times that she had wanted to be with him all the time. And now that she had her wish, here she was, crying like a damned baby.
31
At ten minutes after midnight Don was awakened by three imperative raps on the door. He was groggy because he had only been asleep for about an hour and a half, but the desk lamp was still on, thanks to Marie’s inability to sleep without a night light, so Don was not disoriented. He knew, from the moment he was awakened, that he was in an Orla Vista motel room, that it was late at night, and that there was no excuse, or valid reason, for anyone to pound on his door, unless, perhaps, it was some drunk who had mistaken Don’s room for his own.
Still in his underwear, with his eyes half-closed, and shivering slightly in the chilled airconditioned room, Don hoped that the rapping hadn’t awakened Marie. He had had a difficult time getting Marie to go to bed. She had cried for almost an hour after they checked into the room—although her appetite at dinner had not been noticeably affected by grief—and then she had sulked for the rest of the evening, refusing to talk to him. Shaking his head to clear it as he crossed, barefooted, toward the door, Don glanced at Marie’s bed and noticed that she was not in it. His relief was immediate. It was now evident that Marie had gone outside for some reason or other and had locked herself out.
But such was not the case.
The man in uniform who stood on the narrow concrete porch beneath the overhead porchlight was a full head taller than Don, and he was pointing the barrel of a .38 police special at Don’s midriff. The officer smiled shyly, exposing brutal, metal-studded upper front teeth, reholstered his pistol, and said apologetically, “Excuse me, Mr. Luchessi, but if you’ll ask me in I’d like to talk to you for a few minutes.”
Nodding, Don backed away as the big man in khaki chinos, with a round eight pointed badge pinned above his left shirt pocket, entered the room. Before closing the door he said something Don didn’t quite catch to another man in uniform who was still outside, and then he edged warily into the room between Don and Don’s opened suitcase on the baggage rack. Don was trying not to panic, although he was almost certain now that something terrible had happened to Marie, or else this sheriff, or deputy sheriff, would not be in his room, and Marie would be. Don sat on the edge of his bed, staring at Marie’s rumpled bedclothes and, to have something to do, began to put on his socks and shoes. The sheriff nodded approvingly as Don started to dress, and pawed idly through Don’s suitcase with his large left hand.
“That’s good, Mr. Luchessi,” he said. “I was going to suggest that you get dressed.”
“What’s going down?” Don said thickly.
“A few questions—that’s all.” The sheriff removed the contents from Don’s pockets before handing the trousers to Don. He took Don’s key-case to the door, opened it, and handed the case to the man outside. “Here, Red,” he said, “take a look through his car.”
“There’s valuable property in my car,” Don said.
“Sure. But it won’t hurt any to look at it, will it?”
Don stood up, zipped his fly closed, and crossed to his suitcase. He s
lipped a clean white knitted shirt over his head, and then lit a cigarette, taking it from the pack on the bedside table. He switched on the bedside lamp and sat on the edge of his bed. His legs were trembling.
“Listen,” Don said, “if something’s happened to my daughter, you’d better tell me about it.” His tongue was thick and his throat was tight.
The sheriff sat at the desk facing Don. He removed his broad-brimmed hat and placed it on the other side of the desk lamp. The shadowed brim had made it difficult for him to read the cards in Don’s wallet.
“You daughter’s okay, Mr. Luchessi,” he said. “That’s your real name, isn’t it? Luchessi?”
“Yes, sir. Where is she?”
“She’s all right. Mr. Rouse, the motel manager, brought her over to my house, and my wife made her some hot chocolate. She’s probably having some oatmeal cookies with it. I just want to ask you a few questions is all.”
“About what?”
The big man chuckled. “For one thing, about these two big bills. Are they real?”
“Yes, they’re real. But what happened to Marie?”
“She said her name was Marie Luchessi, so you must be her father. Is that right?”
“Of course I’m her father. Is she hurt or anything?”
“No, no, she’s fine. Why’re you carrying around a thousand-dollar-bill and a five-hundred dollar bill?”
“If I carried fifteen hundred dollars in one-dollar bills I couldn’t fold my wallet,” Don said.
“That’s right, that’s right,” the big man chuckled, exposing his metal-studded teeth, “I guess you couldn’t at that.” He counted Don’s traveler’s checks. “Four hundred and twenty bucks in traveler’s checks, too. Right?”
“I think so, yes,” Don said.
“Where’re you heading, Mr. Luchessi? A little vacation? New York, maybe?”
“No. I’m the state representative for Gunnersbury Silversmiths. You can see my business cards there. I’m visiting my salesman in Tampa, a regular field trip. Our main office is in Miami, and I make a trip to Tampa and another to Jacksonville about once a month, sometimes every other month.”
“You’re the boss, then, right?”
“That’s the way it worked out. I’ve been with Gunnersbury for almost ten years now. I was the Miami salesman at first, and then when the English representative retired, they gave me his job, too. So I’m both: the Florida district manager, and the Miami sales representative. Two hats. But what—?”
“This is a lot of money. How long were you planning to stay in Tampa?”
“Look. Tomorrow I’m taking my daughter to Disney World. We’ll go on to Tampa for one or two days, and then we drive back to Miami.”
“In the middle of the week? What about school? Doesn’t Marie go to school?”
“It won’t hurt to miss a couple of days. She’s very smart, and I’ve been promising to take her to Disney World for a long time.”
There was a knock on the door. The sheriff was on his feet and had the door opened before Don could stand. Don sat again as the deputy entered. He was a short man with curly red hair, and his expression, as he looked at Don, was a curious mixture of anger and loathing. He carried Don’s .45 semiautomatic pistol loosely in a red bandana handkerchief.
“Look what I found in the glove compartment, Ed,” the redhead deputy said. “Not only is it loaded, he doesn’t even have the safety on.”
“Where does your little girl ride in the car, Mr. Luchessi?” the sheriff said, no longer smiling.
“She rides in the front seat, but she’s been told not to touch my pistol. After all, I’ve got some ten thousand dollars worth of silverware to protect, and it isn’t against the law to carry a gun in your car for protection.”
“What about the silverware?” The sheriff turned to the deputy.
“The trunk’s loaded with it,” the redhaired deputy said. “What about the pistol?”
“Put the safety on, and stick it back in the glove compartment. Then lock the car and wait outside for a few minutes.”
The deputy left, carrying the pistol, pausing at the threshold to glower for a long moment at Don before he closed the door.
The sheriff chuckled. “Red’s got four kids, you see, and he won’t even take his pistol home with him. Keeps it locked up at the substation when he’s off-duty. But he’s right, you know. It isn’t a good idea to keep a loaded pistol where kids can get it. They’re curious, you see, and—but that’s your business. If I were carrying valuable silverware in my car, I’d want a pistol for protection myself.”
“I’d like to know what’s going on, Sheriff,” Don said.
“Well, Mr. Luchessi, we have a small problem here. I think we can work it out all right, but here it is. About an hour ago your daughter woke up the manager, John Rouse, and told him that she was being kidnapped—”
“That’s ridiculous! I’m her father!”
“Yes, I know. She even looks like you. Anyway, John drove her over to my house and brought her in. He could’ve taken her to the substation, but he knew I was home and they’d’ve called me anyway, so he figured that was the easiest way. As he said, he brought her over without waking you up because he didn’t want to take any chances, you see. I talked to your daughter, and she told me you were her father all right, but when she told me you had a gun I didn’t take any chances myself. I asked her where you were supposed to be taking her, and when she said that you were going to Disney World tomorrow, I didn’t take much stock in her story. She would be the first little girl to ever complain about being kidnapped to Disney World!” He chuckled. “Anyway, Mr. Luchessi, I checked the thing out before I drove over here, and sure enough, it was on the wire tonight that you kidnapped your daughter, or that you’re suspected of kidnapping her. What do you have to say about that?”
Don shook his head. “I don’t understand. I left a note for my wife,” Don lied, “telling her that I was taking Marie with me. The only thing I can think of is that Clara didn’t find the note. Why would I kidnap my own child, for Christ’s sake?”
“I don’t know, Mr. Luchessi, but your wife might think, that is, if she didn’t find the note, that you were running out on her or something. So that’s the position we’re in right now. You and your daughter have been reported missing, and you are alleged to have her—well, illegally, I suppose. Anyway, that’s what we’re faced with, and although it isn’t a big problem it is a problem, and we’d better work something out.”
“I could call my wife,” Don said, “but if she didn’t find the note she’s probably hysterical by now, and it wouldn’t do much good to have her tell you to forget the whole business, and withdraw the allegation. I have a hunch she’d be sore, and she’d want Marie back in Miami immediately.”
“Yes, I think you’re right. She wants her back, all right.”
“Meanwhile, I’ve got to go to Tampa on business, and I don’t feel like driving back to Miami and then up again to Tampa tomorrow. So I’ll tell you what, Sheriff. I’ll let you call the Miami police, or the sheriff, whoever put out the missing report, and then I’ll give you the money for expenses and transportation. You can send someone down to Miami with Marie, and I’ll go ahead over to Tampa and complete my business. By the time I get home again, two or three days from now, my wife will be cooled off some and I can talk to her and straighten everything out. What do you say to that?”
“It’s an intelligent way to solve your problem.” The sheriff looked at the ceiling for a moment, and then put on his hat. “In fact, I might take the trip down to Miami myself. I’ll bet it’s been six—no, closer to eight—months since I’ve been down to Sin City.”
The sheriff got to his feet and stretched, and Don joined him at the desk. Don picked up his silver ballpoint pen and signed seven twenty-dollar traveler’s checks. He handed the filled-in checks to the lawman.
“Will one-forty be enough? I know it is if you drive down, but if you take a bus—”
“I’ll drive
my own car down, Mr. Luchessi. Now, I suspect you’ll want to talk to your daughter, won’t you?”
“For a minute. I’m wide awake now, so I’ll just go ahead and check out and drive to Tampa afterwards. Let’s get Marie’s clothes in the bag.”
Don checked out of the motel, and followed the sheriff’s car with its flashing blue light to the lawman’s house. He waited at the curb while the sheriff went inside to get Marie. She came out shyly and reluctantly, wearing her new jeans and one of her Dolphin T-shirts. The sheriff and his wife remained on the front porch, and the red-haired deputy sat in the front seat of the police car. The blue light on top of the sheriff’s vehicle was on and whirling, and Marie’s pale face looked a ghostly blue to Don as she came down the walk. Don dropped down on one knee and opened his arms. Marie started to cry and then ran into his arms. He enveloped her, hugging her tight, and kissed her wet cheek.
“You’re ten years old, baby,” he whispered, “and you’re old enough to understand. And if you can understand, you’ll be able to remember this night. Do you understand, Marie?”
“What, Daddy? Understand what?” Marie wiped her streaming face with the backs of her hands.
“It was your choice, not mine. I’m leaving now, and you’ll never see your daddy again.”
Don rose. Marie clung to his legs, crying, “No, Daddy, no!”
Don disengaged her arms gently and got into his Mark IV. He waved to the sheriff and his wife on the porch, backed up a few feet to clear the sheriff’s car, and then drove away. For two blocks, before Don turned right to get to the Interstate, the blue light continued to flash in his rearview mirror.
Every time, Don thought, every time Marie sees a blue light flashing, every time for the rest of her life, every time she will remember me.
The Shark-Infested Custard Page 22
