“I’m not sure. Can you remember what time the call ended?”
“Twenty minutes ago, I think. Actually, I’m going to have to get off the line, I’m in heavy traffic and I’ve got to get over a lane—”
He hung up before I could say good-bye. Using Marshall’s cell phone, I dialed Kendall’s cell number again.
Beep. Beep. Beep.
“Hootis,” a male voice answered.
“Ah, I’m calling for—”
It sounded like the phone receiver fell hard, against something, and then I heard nothing.
I kept the phone to my ear, and one hand on Jacqueline. No more conversation, even though I said “hello” a few more times. From the digital display on the telephone’s face, I knew I’d gotten the right number for Kendall. But someone else had answered. “Hootis.” It had sounded like a strange name at first. But as I thought about it more, I realized what it meant.
Who dis?
Who is this?
My empty stomach was turning nauseous, and my forehead was warm. My cousin was not alone. Maybe I was being melodramatic, assuming too much. But Kendall had been gone half an hour, and someone else had her phone.
Andrea popped her head in. “What’s going on?”
I laid the cell phone aside without disconnecting it. Then I took her a few steps away and told her, in a low voice, what was going on.
“That doesn’t sound good.” All the hauteur had dropped from her, for once.
“I’m going to call 911. There’s another phone in here, somewhere, isn’t there?” I scanned the overloaded desk.
Andrea slid open a drawer, and voilà, there was a cordless phone and receiver. “They won’t believe you.”
“What?” I asked, my fingers punching in 911 on the new phone.
“I’m telling you, they won’t care. This is D.C. Somebody missing for twenty minutes isn’t exactly viewed as urgent.”
As the operator patched me through to the police, I thought quickly about how to get the best result. Andrea was right that Kendall’s absence wasn’t long enough for her to qualify as a missing person. So when the police dispatcher came on the line, I told him about the cut-off phone call, the smashed glass, and the strange male voice on the other end of the cell phone.
The dispatcher switched me to a cool voice that said, “Homicide. Detective Burns.”
Homicide. I couldn’t fathom Kendall having reached that point already. I told my story again, layering the fact that a U.S. senator with whom she’d been speaking was concerned for her safety. This was D.C., as Andrea had said, and every connection counted.
“Do you still have the connection open to the cell phone?” he asked.
“I’m not sure,” I said. “I didn’t hang up, but I heard a noise on the other end. It might be on or off.”
“Give me the number for your cousin and we’ll test it from here,” he said. “And whatever you do, make sure nobody disconnects the phone you were using. We have a mobile phone-trace unit we can bring in to hook up to that cell phone if it comes to that. Hang on for me. I’ll be right back.” The detective came back on the line after about two minutes. “We can’t get through. We’ll bring the mobile phone-tracer—probably be there in ten minutes or less.”
I took the time to drag Marshall to privacy and tell him that I had to temporarily hand over his precious phone to the police.
“You couldn’t have picked a better night for this,” Marshall said as he watched me coax the drooping twins to the restaurant foyer, where I planned to wait for the police.
“I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” I answered coldly. “However, it shouldn’t impact things too much. They’re really mostly interested in talking to the cook who saw Kendall go outside.”
“Great. The police go into my kitchen, everyone’s going to think it’s getting raided by the INS.”
“Don’t be such a fatalist,” I said.
“Me, a fatalist? How about you? I don’t think it’s an abduction when a guest leaves the table to make a phone call in privacy.”
“Look, I’m sorry about this. Maybe you can make an announcement about what’s going on so the diners don’t think it’s an INS raid.”
“Thank you, I will. I’ll let everyone know that our restaurant is so fabulous that the district’s finest criminals have discovered it already.”
There was no point in talking with Marshall. He was angry, and if I hadn’t been so worried about my cousin, I would have felt sympathy for him. But Kendall was in danger. Detective Burns’s response made this clear.
Jacqueline had started to cry because Win was hitting her. Resolutely, I plopped myself on a bench in the foyer with one child on each knee. Andrea, from her position at the podium, watched, a distasteful expression on her face.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” I murmured, smoothing Jacqueline’s hair back into its bow. “Everything’s going to be okay. Win, do you like policemen? You’re going to meet one soon!”
He didn’t answer me, so I looked at him and saw that he had taken Marshall’s cell phone from its perch on a shelf and was punching in numbers.
“No!” I blurted out, pulling it away from him. Now he was crying as hard as Jacqueline. I held the phone aloft, as high as I could.
Justin popped his head around the corner. “I hear that redheaded witch flew off on her broomstick.”
“How can you say that!” I didn’t bother to hide my anger. “She had to go outside to finish her phone call and she vanished. It’s your fault this happened!”
“I didn’t tell her she had to go outside,” Justin said. “Just away from the dining area.”
“If you had just let her finish—” I stopped talking, because I was on the verge of crying, and people were streaming in. A black man in a preppy-looking tan suit walked in with another man in uniform. I stood up to address them, but before I could do that, Andrea had swung into operation. “Sir, under what name is your party’s reservation?”
“I’m not here for dinner. I’m Louis Burns, a homicide detective with the District police.”
I jumped up from the bench where I’d been sitting. “I’m Rei Shimura, the one who called. I have the phone right here.”
“Is there a quieter place within this restaurant where we can link our computer to your phone?” Burns said. Now I noticed that the uniformed officer with him was carrying something that looked like a laptop computer.
“There’s an office shared by the chef and the restaurant owner. And about the cell phone, it belongs to the restaurant owner, Marshall Zanger, who needs it back as soon as possible.”
“That might be a while. And the children don’t need to come with us,” Burns said as I gathered them up.
“They’re Kendall’s children. There’s nobody else to watch them, just me.” I was starting to feel defensive of Jacqueline and Win. Didn’t anyone in Washington tolerate children?
“If you take them home, I can work faster and give you updates by phone on what’s happening,” Burns said.
I looked at the wilting, whining twosome and saw the sense of his suggestion. And the family Volvo, with its two child-safety seats, was parked just outside. I could ferry Win and Jacqueline back to Potomac, tuck them into their cribs, and wait for word from Kendall.
I fished around in the diaper bag, pulling out a makeup case, diapers and wipes and plastic cups, before latching onto a Gucci key ring. I opened the car easily, but found that snapping children into their car seats took some time to figure out, given that I had even less experience with child travel than child pottying. After that, I had to figure out how to get to Potomac without using the beltway, as I usually did; in the end I remembered that Massachusetts Avenue would lead me there, so I took it.
Traffic, at this hour of the evening, was light. As the car sped smoothly to the suburbs, I thought about how far Kendall might have gone already with the strange man who had answered her telephone. Far in terms of distance, far in terms of violation…
I fought b
ack a lump in my throat and drove into Treetops, the development of hulking homes where my cousin lived. Its builders had made an effort to maintain a fringe of tall old trees between the houses and the road. Once inside Treetops, though, the houses were so large that there were only a few yards between them, barely enough to grow anything. I drove slowly, hoping I wouldn’t pass the turn. It was hard to remember Kendall’s street because, to me, they all looked the same. Harmony Way—yes, that was it. I recognized her home when I saw on the front door a eucalyptus wreath tied with a pink-and-green ribbon, and Win Junior’s red Little Tikes car tipped over the front path.
I jabbed the doorbell hard, just in case Kendall’s husband was home from his meeting, but nobody answered. Please let the alarm be off, I prayed to myself as I tried different keys in the lock. The door swung open with a soft chiming sound, not the siren I’d feared. Excellent, I thought, hurrying back to the car to bring in the children. With one tucked under each of my arms, it was a heavy load, but I couldn’t risk leaving one child in the car unsupervised for even a minute. Despite the rough handling, Jacqueline kept snoring, but Win Junior woke up and wanted to play in his car.
“It’s too late. Too dark,” I said. Once we got inside, I unloaded Win on the Persian rug in the cavernous entry hall while I carried Jacquie upstairs to her crib. Then I hurried back downstairs to make milk for Win, who’d begun to whine for it. He showed me where the sippy cups were, and pointed out the soymilk in the fridge. As a cup of milk revolved in the microwave, I surveyed Kendall and Win’s kitchen. It was state-of-the-art, in Kendall’s words, with acres of black granite countertop, and faux-faded cream cabinetry. Near the Sub-zero fridge, a faux-antique framed chalkboard had neatly chalked-in names and phone numbers. Kendall’s work and cell, as well as Win’s. I’d call him after I got the children settled. As I was on my way to them, the telephone rang. Louis Burns told me that he’d determined Kendall’s cell phone was moving at a pace that seemed to indicate it was in a car.
“Do you know for certain that it’s a car?”
“Oh, no. It could be anything—a car or truck or van or even bus. There’s really no way to tell, at this point. I’m sending someone over to get a picture of your cousin. Can you get one ready for us?”
Casting a last look at Win Junior, who was lying on his back sucking down the cup of warm milk, I took the cordless phone with me into the living room. I couldn’t see any photo albums, but on the mantel I noticed a silver-framed wedding photograph of Kendall in a white gown leaning back against Win, before his hairline had begun to recede. I’d missed their wedding because I’d been in Japan. I picked it up and asked, “Would a framed photo work?”
“Sure. We’ll take it out of the frame and put it back in when it’s all over.”
All over. That could be good, or bad. “The fact that you want the photo, does it mean you’re seriously looking for her?”
“Yes,” he said shortly.
“So you’re tracking the telephone. What if the phone battery goes dead?” I asked.
“Sometimes we’ve still been able to locate the vehicle. But we can’t pinpoint it exactly. We can track it to a quarter-mile area. If we know what the car looks like, it’s usually pretty easy to find.”
But nobody had seen the car. That was unspoken.
We made arrangements for an officer to come to the house to take the photograph from me. He also wanted to talk to Kendall’s husband. I gave him the phone number that I’d seen on the chalkboard.
“How are the kids?” Burns asked gruffly.
“Okay. I’m about to put them to bed.”
“Good idea. Is there anyone else who could help you? A grandmother, maybe?”
“Kendall’s parents are on St. Barth’s right now. Kendall and Win have a live-in baby-sitter. She’s got to make it home sometime.”
“If, for any reason, nobody can relieve you, there’s always emergency help from social services.”
I looked at Win, half asleep on the rug, and felt so much fear that I was on the verge of tears. I couldn’t talk to Burns anymore. I whispered, “Why don’t I let you go, so you can get back to tracking down my cousin.”
I changed Win’s diaper and put him in pajamas and laid him down in his own blue-and-yellow bedroom. I turned off the light but left the door open a crack after he whimpered that the room was too dark. He still hadn’t asked for his mother. I wouldn’t have known what to say if he had.
I checked back in on Jacquie to adjust her covers, and when I heard the sound of deep, even breathing from both babies’ rooms, I went downstairs.
Social services. Why had Louis Burns brought that up? Children went into social services only if there wasn’t another parent or family member to care for them. Did the detective think there was a reason Win wouldn’t be able to care for the children? When a woman went missing, was her husband automatically a suspect?
It was eleven o’clock now. I leafed through the family address book, looking for contact information for Kendall’s parents on St. Barth’s. Nothing. I put in a call to my mother, in San Francisco, who was packing for a long-anticipated holiday with my father, and some close friends, in Fiji. But when she heard what had happened, she started talking about canceling the eighteen-day trip.
“Rei, that’s—oh, my Lord, so terrible! What kind of neighborhood were you in? Are you and the children safe right this minute?”
“It was a fine restaurant, and to answer your second question, I’m at Kendall’s house with the children. I’d hoped you’d know where Aunt Deborah and Uncle Bill are staying.”
“It’s the Breakers—no, that’s where they go in Florida. St. Barth’s, let me think. I think it’s a bed and breakfast they use. They sent a lovely postcard last year, which I’m sure I tossed in the spring cleaning—”
“I guess I’ll have to wait for Win to get home, then,” I said.
“Don’t count on him to know anything.” My mother’s opinion of Win was about the same as mine. “Ask Dougie.”
She was talking about Kendall’s brother. “I don’t know where he lives. Do you?”
“He lives in Howard County somewhere—Millersville, that’s it. Haven’t you seen him?”
“No. Since I’ve been here, Kendall’s been the only one of the Howards who has been interested in doing things.”
“It takes two to tango. Have you gone to visit Grandmother yet?”
“Not exactly,” I said. My grandmother and I had unfinished business that I meant to keep that way. “Mom, I’d better get off the line. I heard someone at the door. Maybe it’s the cop.”
“What?”
“‘Bye, Mom.” I clicked off quickly, because I didn’t need any more flack from my mother about not seeing my relatives. And it was true that there was the sound of something happening outside the door. I walked toward the foyer, Kendall’s wedding picture in hand. I’d been expecting a police officer, but from what I could see through the leaded glass pane next to the front door, this probably wasn’t one. The shape of a tall man was clear through the pane, leaning against it as if he thought he could push it in. Adrenaline surged as I thought about the possibilities: a random break-in. Or maybe, the man who’d taken Kendall had brought her home.
5
I was glancing back at the kitchen, trying to decide whether to run back to the phone, when I heard metal sliding into metal. The chime went off as the door flew open and Kendall’s husband, Win, staggered through. His hair was slick with the night’s rain and his skin had a greenish cast.
“Hey, Rye. Whassup?” He blinked at the sight of me.
“Rei,” I said, correcting his pronunciation. “Actually, I have bad news.”
“The restaurant’s going to tank?” He laughed shortly. “Don’t let a slow first night scare you. And I’m sorry I couldn’t make it, I had something else to do—”
“It’s not a problem with the restaurant.” I could hardly get out the next two words. “Kendall disappeared.”
“You mea
n, she didn’t show up?” He snorted. “She called me earlier today, bitching about child care problems. That’s probably why she didn’t come.”
“She did meet me for dinner there, with the kids. But she stepped out to make a phone call and never came back.”
“What the hell—did you call the police?” Was his expression tightening out of concern for his wife, I wondered, or something else?
“Yes,” I said. “They have been trying to reach you on your cell phone.”
“I had it turned off. God, what happened to Kendall?”
“I don’t know. Nobody does. But her cell phone is in motion. It’s going across the city.”
“I don’t get it. What’s this about the phone?” Win rubbed his temples, as if he had a headache. His pupils were huge, two shiny blue-black discs.
“She might have been abducted.” I couldn’t say killed.
“Oh, my God.” He leaned against the wall, looking sick. My gaze moved from his face to the rest of him, thinking it odd that he had no briefcase, and that when his coat gapped open it revealed a rumpled business shirt peeking through his trousers. He looked as if he’d been rolling around with someone in a car—either that, or he’d forgotten to pull himself together after using the bathroom.
“Did Lisa put the kids down?” he asked abruptly.
“No, she’s at a dance. Remember, there were child care problems? I brought the twins home and put them to bed.” I still felt a flush of pride at the fact that I’d done it. “I can leave now, or I can stay a while longer.”
“I can take it from here. What do I owe you?”
“Owe me?” I was confused.
“For watching the kids.”
“I’m Kendall’s cousin, remember? If you do anything for me at all, just phone the detective who’s involved, because he’s been on my back about where you are. He’ll be sending over another cop to pick up this photograph.” I put the framed wedding photograph in his hand.
“I can’t believe it. If only I’d gone with her tonight,” Win muttered, looking at the picture. “God, she’s beautiful. She still looks the same, you know—”
The Pearl Diver Page 6
