by Rayna Morgan
Maddy smirked. “As in under-handed?”
“As in meeting Toby on his playing field of subterfuge.”
“Now you’re talking!”
“I’ll have Marge introduce me as a wealthy, retired friend looking for a place to park my money where I get better returns than from my bank. We’ll even plant the idea that I can provide Toby access to other people with discretionary income.”
“I wish I could take part,” Maddy said. “I’d love to meet that shyster.”
Warren looked at her appraisingly. “Actually, there is a way we can use your acting skills.”
Lea threw up her hands. “I hope you aren’t considering portraying my sister as an investor.”
Maddy scowled. “Do you see a problem with that?”
Warren shook his head. “That’s not what I have in mind. Marge depicts Toby as a man who relies on charm and good looks to appeal to women. Perhaps his ego can be used to our advantage.”
“Are you suggesting he targets women more than men?”
“Women outlive men. It makes sense for him to focus on the fairer sex.”
He looked at Maddy. “We’ll present you as my financially unsophisticated daughter who is interested only in increasing the size of the estate she will someday inherit.”
“That’s a more believable role for Maddy,” Lea agreed.
Before Maddy could object, Warren continued. “I’ll express concern about my spendthrift daughter handling my assets. I may even dodder a bit to convince him we’re in need of help. He’ll jump at the chance to relieve an old codger of his money.”
“Are you sure Toby will believe us?” Maddy asked.
Lea held back a smile. “I’m not sure Dad can pass for a doddering old fool, but you’ll easily convince a person you know nothing of finances.”
Her sister bristled. “Are you suggesting I’m careless with money?”
“I’m simply admiring your acting skills.” Under her breath, Lea added, “Tom would be wise to maintain separate checking accounts after you marry.”
Warren intervened to prevent an argument. “I’ll let you know as soon as Marge arranges for Toby to make our acquaintance.”
Maddy stared daggers at her sister. “And what will my frugal sister do in the meantime? Are you going to follow up on—?”
Lea kicked Maddy under the table and rolled her eyes in their father’s direction. “Don’t you remember, Sis? I told you I have personal matters to take care of.”
Warren looked suspicious. “I assume you won’t be wasting more money on a groomer.”
• • •
After dismissing the meeting, Warren called Marge.
“Are you still in contact with Toby?” he asked.
“After talking with you, I realized I’ve made excuses for his actions. I intend to close my account with him immediately.”
“Hold off on taking that action. For now, I prefer you act as though nothing concerns you.”
“But I feel so helpless. Isn’t there anything I can do?”
“That’s what I called to ask. Would you be willing to take part in a little subterfuge to trap Toby?”
“After how that man deceived me, nothing would give me greater pleasure.”
“Good girl.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Tell Toby you’re so pleased with his service you recommended him to a friend.”
Marge chuckled. “I see where you’re going with this. Do you intend to be that friend?”
“I do, indeed. If you would, schedule an appointment.”
“Better yet, I’ll invite him for coffee. He prefers to meet here rather than at his office. I think he hopes to make the acquaintance of my neighbors.”
“Good idea.” Warren was pleased with Marge’s enthusiasm. “A relaxed environment will put him less on guard and provide a better chance for us to talk.”
“I’ll call now to make arrangements.”
Warren stopped her before she hung up. “Don’t tell Toby, but Maddy will be with me.”
“Oh, good. The more, the merrier.”
“A word of caution. Don’t be surprised if Maddy acts a little scatter-brained in front of Toby. It’s part of our plan.”
Marge chuckled. “I can’t wait. We’ll show this scoundrel old people aren’t afraid to fight back.”
• • •
Back at her desk, Lea considered what her father said about people making money with information. She thought again about the exchange between Amber and Mary.
What had Mary said?
Something about there always being ways to make money.
She wondered if Mary was being paid to spy on Pat.
It was time to have another chat with Mary.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Later that day, Warren received a call from his grandson.
“Hey, Jon. Calling for a rematch of our chess game?”
“Remember our talk about Dylan?” the boy blurted out.
Warren sat straighter. “What’s happened?”
“This morning, I went to Dylan’s house to walk with him to the bus stop. His mom was all upset because he didn’t come home last night. I looked for him at school but he never showed up.”
“Has he pulled this kind of stunt before?”
“He missed curfew a bunch of times, but he never stayed out all night. The only class he skips is Mr. Maxwell’s boring social studies lecture.”
“Give me Dylan’s address. I’ll stop by to see if I can help.”
Before his grandson hung up, Warren asked for places where Dylan might be.
“Kids hang out at the Mall after school. But if students are found loitering while classes are in session, mall security notifies the school.”
“Where do kids go to drink beer or get high?”
There was silence on the other end of the phone.
“You know about those places, Grandpa?”
“There have been places like that forever. We went to a cornfield when I was growing up.”
“Wow, wait ‘til I tell Mom.”
“If you do, I’ll make sure she docks your allowance.”
“On what grounds? She’ll need a reason, and you promised not to tell about Dylan.”
Warren stifled a laugh. “On the grounds you’re too smart for your own good. Now cough up the information.”
“Oh, all right. I’ve never been there, but I hear there’s a place on the beach.”
“I need a specific location. The beach goes for miles.”
“Between the Marina and the hotel. After dark, the older kids build bonfires and break out the beer.”
“That’s near where Grandma and I live. Why haven’t I ever noticed?”
“You’re the one who says people see what they want to see.”
“Like I said,” he muttered, “you’re too smart for your own good.”
He hung up and looked at the dogs.
“It’s a challenging day. We’ve got an oldster and a youngster who need our help.”
• • •
The address Jon furnished was two blocks down the street from Lea’s house.
Dylan’s mother answered the door. “Come in. Jon said you or Lea might stop by.”
Leslie Nelson was an attractive woman, several inches shorter than Warren. She wore jean shorts and an over-sized shirt. Her blond hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He noticed her bare feet as he followed her to the living room.
Quickly removing scattered files, she offered Warren a place on the sofa and sat beside him. “Excuse the mess. I freelance from home since I’ve gone back to work.”
“My daughter did freelance work after she quit her corporate job.”
“Yes, I know. When Lea and Paul first moved to the neighborhood, we only saw her drive out in the morning. When she worked from home, I got to know her better especially with our boys being the same age.” She looked sideways at him. “I haven’t seen her since you opened your agency, but I expected to see he
r instead of you this afternoon.”
“Jon didn’t tell his mother about Dylan. He felt Dylan might not want his parents to know.”
“That sounds like Jon. He’s a loyal friend.”
Warren smiled and waited for her to continue.
“I’d like to think the same is true of my son, but I’m not sure. There are moments when I feel I no longer know the boy.”
“It’s not unusual for children to lose their way when parents divorce.”
She wrung her hands. “I know it’s been hard on Dylan.”
“It will help me find the boy if I understand how he’s feeling.”
She stared out the window. “Dylan’s father made a trip back east on business. He stayed a few days to attend a class reunion. Dylan was sick at the time, so I stayed home.”
When she looked back, her eyes filled with sadness. “Dan rekindled the flame with his high school sweetheart. Less than a year later, we divorced.”
She picked up a cushion and cradled it in her lap.
“It’s one of those things you play over and over in your head. If I went to the reunion with Dan, would things have turned out differently?”
“Rather than questioning the crossroads in our life, I think of them as gateways to something better the universe has in store.”
She looked around the room. “You may be right. It’s been fun dusting off my skills and getting back in the game. I’ve found strength I didn’t know I had.”
“I understand how the changes would be difficult for Dylan, losing his father and you going back to work.”
“It makes you feel twice as guilty. First, wondering what you did wrong that your marriage failed. Then, worrying about what damage you’ve caused your child.”
“Does Dylan see his father often?”
“After our divorce, Dan transferred back to the Chicago branch of the company he works for. He remarried and has two stepchildren. Living two thousand miles away, he rarely sees Dylan except during the summer when Dylan visits his father for a month.”
She fingered a dangling thread on the pillow. “I suspect my son’s current actions are a delayed response to the upheaval. At the time, I was too wrecked by all that happened to give my son the attention he needed. And I’ve never been much of a disciplinarian.”
“So it’s unusual for Dylan to stay out all night?”
“Until lately, I wouldn’t have thought him capable of such a thing. He must know how worried I’ve been.”
“Until lately?”
“In the last few months, Dylan has changed.”
“In what way?”
She took a moment to consider her answer.
“He was always a happy kid, but he’s grown moody. His grades have fallen. He quit playing basketball after his coach benched him. And his friends stopped coming by. Except your grandson, of course.”
Her tone sharpened. “Jon is the only friend willing to stand by Dylan. The others seem afraid to be tainted by his bad behavior.”
“Have you met the new kids he’s hanging out with?”
She lowered her eyes. “I used to keep up with his friends, but lately…”
“I understand.”
She raised her head. “It’s not that I haven’t tried. One day I came home to find two boys sitting in a car in front of our house. When I asked, they said they were looking for Dylan. Knowing he wasn’t home, I invited them inside to wait. The suggestion made them nervous. They mumbled something about catching up with him later and left.”
Without waiting for Warren’s input, she hurried on.
“He’s not a bad boy. Only thoughtless and sometimes reckless.” She offered a weak smile. “Rebelling against those who set the rules is part of growing up, isn’t it?”
Warren nodded. “Yes, I suppose.”
He was getting the picture of a confused boy crying for attention. Needy in ways, but cocky and full of life. Dylan would be a handful for anyone, let alone a single mother trying to reinvent herself.
She snapped the thread on the pillow and smiled shyly. “In the last few weeks, I’ve been seeing someone. A man I met at a seminar.” She giggled. “The topic was how to rebound after divorce.”
“Meeting new people is a good remedy for broken relationships,” Warren assured her.
Her cheeks reddened. “We’ve gone to dinner once or twice. One night we took in a movie.”
Before Warren could comment, she rushed on. “It’s nothing serious. I don’t even think of us as dating. We’re simply two divorced people finding things to do together.”
He understood her need to explain the situation. She wanted release from the guilty feeling she might be the cause of Dylan’s aberrant behavior.
“I take it Dylan has reacted poorly to your attempts at socializing?”
She suddenly lost her composure. “I’m afraid he’s using drugs. It’s every parent’s worst nightmare.”
Empathizing with the mother’s pain, Warren took her hand.
“Can you help me find him?” she begged.
“I promise. We’ll get your boy home safe.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Pat arrived at the psychologist’s office, a converted Victorian house in midtown, promptly at five o’clock. The close proximity to the detective agency afforded her a chance to consult with the sisters following her appointment.
After greetings were exchanged, the doctor asked the reason for Pat’s visit.
“I won’t bother to ask if you’re dealing with stress since that’s the nature of your occupation. But is there anything in particular I might help with? Are the bad guys giving you nightmares?”
Pat laughed. “No, but they could be making me paranoid.”
“How so?”
“I’m feeling like someone’s out to get me.”
The email threats were real enough, but Pat wanted assurance that she wasn’t overreacting.
The doctor smiled. “That’s an emotion people experience in every profession. It’s prevalent in the competitive environment of big business. Have you identified particular individuals who trigger those feelings?”
“The one person who always sets me off arrives in the next day or two. My former boss from the precinct up north.”
“Tell me about him.”
Pat gave the doctor a brief history of her experience with Cranston.
“He makes me feel inadequate, like I need to constantly prove myself. If you help me understand his mindset, maybe I can respond more productively.”
“Bias against women still permeates the working world, especially women such as you who are working their way up.”
The doctor polished her glasses before continuing.
“A woman comes up against barriers in any field, but the biggest barrier a policewoman faces is the attitude of male coworkers. Your experience doesn’t surprise me. Discrimination and sexual harassment are pervasive in police departments. Supervisors not only tolerate such practice, but are often perpetrators themselves.”
“At first, it wasn’t blatant,” Pat explained. “Nothing that occurred on a routine basis. Just an underlying sense of a line drawn between the sexes, especially regarding advancement or promotion. The conduct is subtle enough to avoid legal injunctions and lawsuits, but women still feel they’re being discriminated against.”
“How did your supervisor respond to your concerns?”
“The first time I complained about lewd comments from a fellow officer, Cranston laughed it off. He said I should feel flattered. Then he humiliated me by suggesting it was the way I look in a uniform. I wear the same uniform as everyone else, I told him. If the uniform fits me better, it’s because of genes and conditioning. He suggested I lighten up. Not take things so seriously. I argued my demeanor might save a person’s life someday. My own, or the life of a fellow officer.”
“I see how he presses your buttons. I’m afraid you give him a reaction he enjoys.”
“Where does his attitude come from?”
“Men’s reluctance to accept women in law enforcement stems from questions about a woman’s strength, lack of experience, or inability to cope in dangerous situations. In a physical confrontation, a man working with a woman feels himself at a disadvantage he wouldn’t face with a male partner. Others feel reduced in status. The fact women can do the job men have done for years takes away from their social status and standing in society.”
“Those arguments are ridiculous.”
“We aren’t talking about facts, only perceptions. You asked what makes a man tick in the masculine-oriented police subculture. A man may feel his masculinity is tested if he’s forced to share power and dominance, especially with a female. Rational or not, being defended by a woman takes away from his manhood.”
The doctor removed her glasses and placed them on the desk.
“Whatever their reasons for not accepting women officers, men show dissonance in different unacceptable ways. On one hand, they refuse to talk to women officers and often use isolation to make them feel unwanted. Some may intimidate female officers by making rude remarks and engaging in ridicule, derogatory comments, and offensive language.
“The encouraging news is that things are rapidly improving. Unfortunately, a few officers will forever have a disapproving attitude towards women in law enforcement.”
Pat gazed out the window. The sight of the detective agency across the street prompted her next question.
“Would a man like that consider me a threat?”
“That would be an extreme, but it could happen. Especially if he thought you were after his job, or might cost him his position.”
Pat considered the comment. “If that’s the case, my transfer out of his precinct should have eliminated the threat.”
The doctor studied the policewoman sitting across from her.
“This man hasn’t threatened you, has he? If so, you should report him.”
Pat waved a hand dismissively. “I won’t let things get out of hand. Thankfully, I only have to cope with him for a short time. I’ve faced none of the problems we discussed here in Buena Viaje. The detectives on my squad are great, and I couldn’t ask for a better boss than Tom Elliot.”
