“Why?” he croaked. “I could have helped her.”
Lynn shook her head. “No. She was adamant that she didn’t want to involve you. She said her ex would kill you if he knew you helped her. Did he … is that what happened to her?”
Victor rubbed his palm across his eyes.
“Lynn, it’s kind of important. What else did she tell you?” I tried to draw her attention back to her story.
“Um, she said she had to disappear before he got to her. She didn’t know what to do. And then I had an idea.”
I stared at her. Of course. She was an actress.
“You made the stage blood,” I said.
“Right. We went to Target and got the blender and a bedding set from the clearance section. The plan was to stage a scene at her place that made it look like she’d been attacked and then hightail it out of town.”
“Why, exactly?” I asked.
“We thought if he came to her apartment and saw that she was gone, he’d come after her. But if it looked like she’d been hurt, well, he wouldn’t want to implicate himself. I mean, right? He’d go back into whatever hole he crawled out of in the first place. It was worth a shot.”
“I suppose.” I decided not to mention that, as a law enforcement officer, Gabriel Vasquez ought to be able to tell the difference between real blood and a ketchup / chocolate concoction.
“What was the fishing line for?” Victor asked out of nowhere.
“Oh, she had this idea that she’d put the line across her doorway or something and would be able to tell if someone had come into her place while she was gone. I told her that only worked in dumb movies, but she insisted it couldn’t hurt.”
“So what happened?”
“We went back to her place. He’d already been there. He left an empty ring box by her bedside table. She was so scared that he’d come back. I asked if her if she had somewhere to stay. She shut herself into her bathroom and made a phone call. After a few minutes, she came back out and said she was all set. I told her to leave right away. I stayed behind and made the blender blood, set the scene in her bedroom, then cleaned up. I was in the bedroom just admiring my work, when I heard someone out in the hallway. I figured it was Helena, that she’d forgotten something. But then I heard loud, male voices, two of them and—”
“And you climbed out the window and went down the fire escape,” I finished for her.
She nodded, wide-eyed.
Lynn might be high-maintenance, but she was also a damn good friend.
“And you really don’t know where she planned to go?” I said.
“No, I really don’t. She said it would be safer for both of us if she didn’t tell me. I’m sorry.” She trailed off and looked down at her hands.
“Thanks for helping her,” Victor said in a dull voice.
“I guess I didn’t really help her though, did I?” Lynn sobbed.
He met my eyes over her bowed head. I nodded.
“We should talk,” he told her as he ushered her into the church.
I stood on the steps for a moment longer. And then, as the bells in the bell tower above pealed to announce the eleven o’clock hour, a lone cameraman came from across the street and set up in front of the church. I couldn’t read the logo on his jacket from where I stood but I imagined he was from a local affiliate, hoping to catch some footage of Cate coming out after the vigil.
Game time.
An inordinately cheerful-looking Asian woman with pink- and blue-streaked hair bounced up the stairs and walked into the building beside me. She paused and genuflected before entering the church proper.
20
I returned to the church but kept my distance from the flowers. While we were outside talking to Lynn, Officers Thompson and Jennings had changed into street clothes. I overheard them introduce themselves to Lynn as Mr. and Mrs. Elverson. Really, they should have called themselves the Bickersons, seeing as how they already acted like an old married couple.
After I chuckled at my own joke, I wondered how much Victor had told Lynn. I’d have simply asked him, but he was deep in conversation with the Asian woman. Their heads were bowed and they huddled behind one of the massive marble columns, partially out of view.
A pair of nuns wearing traditional long black habits and white head coverings came gliding into the room.
“Excuse us,” the taller one said. “The brothers mentioned that there’s a child here.”
“Um, right. Audra’s up there with her parents.” I pointed to the Whittier-Clays.
“We teach next door at the parish school,” she continued. “We work with the preschoolers. If the little girl would be more comfortable, you could take her downstairs to Father Demo Hall. There are some puzzles and books, as well as paper and crayons down there.”
“That’s very kind of you to let me know,” I said. Especially since her babysitter’s at a cheese shop, I added silently.
“Bless her. She’s very young to sit a vigil.”
“I’ll tell her mother about the playroom.” What I wanted to do was pump them for information about what exactly was involved in sitting a vigil. But the longer they stood there, the more aware I became of my dress’ plunging neckline. So I flashed them a smile and scurried over to talk to Cate.
It’s like the saying, the devil you know is better than the nuns you don’t know.
Audra was halfway down the aisle before the words “play area” were fully out of my mouth. Cate narrowed her eyes.
“I’ll go with her and watch her until Janie gets back,” I hurried to assure her.
Her expression softened. “I’d appreciate that, Thyme.”
“My pleasure.” It would get me out of the floral danger zone. And I wouldn’t be able to stare at Victor and his friend, whoever she was. They were still whispering furiously in their corner.
I took my jealousy, my seasonal allergies, and my cleavage and headed out after Audra.
* * *
Those two nuns turned out to be closer to angels.
Audra and I were coloring a picture of a space alien whose body was made up of different fruits—a coconut head, an apple torso, banana legs—you get the idea, when all hell broke loose back in the kitchen. She dropped the yellow crayon onto the table and reached for me.
Operating on some instinctive level, I scooped her up and raced behind a stack of folding tables that were propped up against the wall. I lowered myself to my butt, keeping one hand on the back of her head, then crab-walked backward as far as I could go until we were wedged between the tables and the wall. It was cramped and dark, but we were out of sight. I pulled Audra closer and listened hard, trying with no success to discern words from all the shouting and banging coming from the kitchen.
Then the door swung open, and my heart sank. Four men in white catering jackets came through the doorway. Two of them were handcuffed and being pushed forward at gunpoint. Two of them were holding the guns and doing the pushing. Two of the men looked horrifyingly familiar. They were the men from Helena’s apartment, the parking lot, and the Chinese restaurant. Gabriel’s men. And they were the ones holding the guns.
Judging by the short-cropped hair and enraged, but not terrified, expressions their captives were wearing, I guessed they were the undercover officers who’d been charged with protecting Audra and her parents. My theory was borne out when one of the handcuffed men spat, “You’re racking up charges by the minute, pal. You’re going to spend the rest of your punk life in jail. You’ve abducted two law enforcement officers. That’s a serious crime.”
“Eh, shut up.” He jabbed the speaker in the back with his own gun. “I’m not spending the rest of my life in jail. I’m spending it on a beach in Rio.”
His compatriot laughed and barked out some response in Portuguese. Then he switched to English as he opened a broom closet not six feet from where we were hiding. “Get in there.” They shoved the two undercover officers into the closet and shut the door.
I could only hope that all t
he noise they were making was drowning out the sound of my pounding heart. To my ears, it sounded like a jackhammer. Audra pressed her face into my shoulder. Please don’t whimper, I thought.
She whimpered.
My heart ceased its hammering and skipped for a beat.
Their footsteps stopped. I gently covered her mouth with my hand and tilted her head back until her eyes met mine. I raised a finger to my lips. She nodded. After a lifetime and a half they started walking again—back to the kitchen. Talking in low Portuguese. The only word I recognized was “Gabriel.”
The door to the kitchen swung open and they went inside.
“Audra, listen. I’m going to take you outside where you’ll be safe. Please be quiet like a mouse until we get out there, okay?”
She nodded her understanding. Her eyes were wide. “What about Mommy and Daddy?”
“They’re going to be okay. The police officers upstairs will take care of them.”
We inched forward, duck walking until we reached the opening, then I moved her aside and stood. I scanned the vast, empty banquet hall and then lifted her into my arms. I hurried through the room, thankful for my silent, flat shoes.
When we reached the broom closet, I hesitated. I needed to get her out. Now. But half of the cavalry was trapped inside.
Crappity, crap, crap, crap, crap.
I yanked open the door and did the finger to my lips thing again. The two officers raised their handcuffed wrists as high as they could. I assumed they were planning to pummel their attackers, but when they saw a woman holding a child, they froze.
“I’m getting her out of here. Those guys said something about Gabriel. You have to get upstairs and warn Thompson and Jennings.”
They didn’t know me from Eve, but I think we all knew there was no time for small talk.
“Johnson here knows a little bit of Portuguese. This Gabriel guy is loitering outside with the media folks, waiting for his chance to come in. Sounds like he wants to see the, uh, casket with his own eyes,” one of the officers said as they sidled past me.
“There’s a door out to a shared courtyard at the end of this hall. Far left,” the other added.
“Shared? Like with the school?”
“Right. Take her over there. The sisters will keep her safe.”
“I’ll be right back,” I told them.
“Ma’am, do not come back. Go across the street to Demo Square. There should be one or two uniforms stationed there.”
They ran past us in a crouch and headed for the stairs to the narthex.
I jogged awkwardly to the end of the hall, Audra’s feet bouncing off my thighs with each step. I pushed open the door with my hip and stepped out into a stairwell. I shifted Audra to my left hip and raced up the stairs. At the top, I scanned the playground. It wasn’t yet noon, so most of the students were still inside, eating lunch or finishing up their morning work, I imagined. But a group of preschoolers was squatting near a small vegetable garden, inspecting the shoots. The two nuns from earlier were with them.
I ran as fast as I’d ever run. The one who’d done most of the talking in the church saw me coming and took several swift steps to meet me before I reached the rest of the class.
“Is something wrong?” she asked in a low, calm voice.
“Yes.” I lowered Audra to the grass and matched the nun’s cadence. “There are two armed men next door. The police are there. But you should take the children inside. And, please, can you take Audra with you?”
She held my eyes for a moment then crossed herself. Then she crouched and offered a hand to Audra. “Hello, Audra. I’m Sister Anastasia. Would you like to join our class for snack and song time?”
Audra appraised her. “Do you have graham crackers?” she asked gravely.
Sister Anastasia smiled at her. “I do, indeed.”
Audra looked up at me. “I’m going to go have snack. Will you help my mommy and daddy, Thyme?”
“I will,” I promised.
They set off toward the garden and I sprinted out to the street and raced across Bleeker, hoping that I didn’t get squashed by a New York City driver before I could find someone in a uniform.
21
I flagged down a police officer near the fountain and started to rattle off an explanation. I got as far as “ambushed the undercover officers” when he barked, “Stay here.” He pulled out his radio and raced toward the church.
I waited until he was out of sight and then made my way back across the street. I wasn’t planning to do anything heroic or stupid, but it did occur to me that Janie would presumably come wandering back, laden with cheese. I didn’t want her to walk into a gun battle. I paced back and forth at the corner for a few moments, dying to know what was happening inside the building.
Two black and white police cruisers sped up with their lights on, but no sirens. They screeched to a halt. Officer Yee exited the passenger side of the closer one.
“Ms. Field, status inside?” Her gun was already drawn.
“There were four undercover caterers. Your two guys, and two working for Gabriel Vasquez. The bad guys must have overpowered your guys. They stripped them of their guns and handcuffed them, then stuffed them in a basement closet.”
Her partner came around from the other side of the car, followed by two officers from the second vehicle. I went on, “They were speaking Portuguese, but I heard the name Gabriel. I don’t know if they’re waiting for him or were just talking about him or what.”
“Hostage count?” One of the officers from the second car asked.
“Um, there’s Victor, Cate Whittier-Clay and her husband, two other women, and Officers Jennings and Thompson inside. I don’t know if there are any caretakers or priests or anyone like that in the building.”
“What about the kid?” Officer Yee wanted to know.
“I got her out. She’s in the school next door visiting a preschool class.”
That bit of information earned me an approving look.
“Okay. We’ll take it from here. Clear the area, please, Ms. Field. You shouldn’t be hanging around out here,” she told me.
“Oh, wait. I forgot about Janie.”
“Who’s Janie?”
“She’s the little girl’s nanny. Ms. Whittier-Clay sent her to the cheese shop. But she’s going to come walking back any minute, with no idea about what’s happening in there.”
“Cheese shop?” one of the officers muttered, as if he might have misheard me.
“Dude, Murray’s is just around the corner. Have you tried their fresh burrata?” Yee’s partner answered.
“Enough about the cheese already. You have this Janie’s cell number?” Yee asked.
I shook my head no.
“Fergus, Oldman, you two close off the corner. Nobody comes onto to Carmine from Bleeker. Got it?”
Either Fergus or Oldman opened his mouth to argue, but the other one shut him down before he got started. “Yes, ma’am. Come on,” the guy said over his shoulder as he turned and walked toward Bleeker.
“Mulgrave, you’re with me.”
Her partner nodded.
“Now, beat it, Thyme. I mean it.” Yee gave me a stern look.
“I’ll just go check on Audra,” I said as I drifted toward the school building.
22
Audra was just fine, the school receptionist assured me. She’d called down to Sister Anastasia’s classroom to check and told me Audra was currently playing in the pretend kitchen area with three other children. She didn’t tell me to get lost, but she didn’t have to. There was yet another police officer posted in front of the school, who eyeballed me hard until I left.
Maybe I should just go home, I thought miserably as I stepped back out onto the sidewalk. Or call one of my sisters to pass the time. This waiting business was for the birds. Maybe the local news crew would have an update.
As soon as that thought formed in my mind, a second thought followed on its heels: Where was that cameraman, anyway? He couldn�
��t have left. He didn’t get a shot of Cate.
My heart jumped in my chest. Unless what he wanted wasn’t a shot of Cate. I craned my neck and scanned up and down the street. No cameraman in sight. What if Gabriel had decided to pose as a cameraman in order to get close to the church?
Your blood sugar must be low, I told myself. The idea was laughable. I might even have laughed aloud had I not, at that very moment, spotted the cameraman in the white jacket with the logo that I couldn’t read, army crawling on his elbows through the courtyard between the school building and the church.
I ran back to into the school. The officer who’d been posted at the door just minutes ago was gone.
“Are you freaking kidding me?” I muttered to a statue of the Virgin Mary. Then I froze. Was that a sin? “Um, sorry, Mary.”
I raced into the office and skidded to a stop in front of the receptionist. “Where’s the police officer who was just outside?”
The woman looked at me in confusion. “I don’t … know? Making the rounds? Seems he’s been walking around the building every hour or so, checking the locks.”
I bolted back outside and raced around to the side of the building in search of the uniformed officer. The alley was empty, except for some fast food wrappers that fluttered on the ground when I ran by and, of course, the ubiquitous rats. I mean, I didn’t see any, but I knew they were there.
I eased open the gate and sneaked into the courtyard. I could see the cameraman in the distance, still edging forward on his elbows, slow, marking his slow tedious progress in inches. In just another minute or two—three, at the most—he’d reach the cement path that led to the stairs into the basement. I didn’t see the police officer anywhere. I didn’t have time for him to show up, anyway.
I raced across the macadam, past the playground, and onto the patch of grass where the garden boxes sat in tidy rows. I grabbed a bright yellow child-sized rake. It was metal but flimsy. I could feel it bending in the breeze as I ran. It wasn’t a weapon that gave me a lot of confidence. But it was what I had.
Thyme to Live: A We Sisters Three Mystery Page 13
