by A W Hartoin
Gina was expecting me, but I made her nervous. She sat at her kitchen table with a lit cigarette dangling from her lips and another one in the ashtray on the kitchen table.
“What did Calpurnia tell you?” she asked, her foot tapping incessantly.
“That you saw Angela in Paris.”
“Not that. About me. What did she say about me?”
Oh crap. How do I answer that?
“Not much,” I said. “It’s not really relevant.”
She flicked a column of ash into the tray and took a deep puff. “I’m not crazy.”
“She didn’t say you were.”
“Really?”
“Really. Now is there anything about Paris that you didn’t tell Calpurnia?” I asked.
Gina relaxed and leaned back, the rigidity going out of her spine. “No. It happened exactly the way I told her.”
“Did your husband see the woman you think is Angela?”
“Not so much. It happened so quickly. We were eating lunch and there she was. Then she was gone. Calpurnia doesn’t believe me, but I tried to catch her. Really, I did.” Angela clutched at her robe, tightening it around her neck. She did that every time she said Calpurnia’s name.
“I believe you. Tribeca is popular. It’s hard to get in or out at lunch.”
Gina smiled. Her lips were the same as her sister’s, not quite symmetrical. Other than that, they looked nothing alike. Gina was a strawberry blonde with pale green eyes and freckles over her little upturned nose. “So you understand.”
“I do,” I said.
“It was her.” Gina teared up. “I knew it was her. Nobody understands, but I felt it.”
“Instincts are powerful and often right.”
“You think so?”
“Absolutely.” I was starting to get a feeling of my own. Gina saw her sister and it wasn’t wishful thinking, not after six years. When people go missing, their loved ones are constantly doing double takes. I knew that from personal experience. But Gina went to Calpurnia, a woman she feared, six years later. She was sure. Calpurnia and Cosmo thought the bi-polar diagnosis was a factor, but, if it was, it wouldn’t have taken so long to kick in.
Gina snubbed out her cigarette in the ashtray and picked up her coffee cup, squeezing it but not taking a drink. Her eyes never left me. She wanted to be sure about me, too.
“Whatever you tell me is just between us,” I said. “The Fibonaccis don’t have to know. Calpurnia asked this favor of me, but, as far as I’m concerned, I work for you.”
“There is something else,” said Gina.
“Something you didn’t tell Calpurnia?”
“Only my husband knows. He doesn’t think I’m crazy so it’s safe.”
“What is it?”
“I followed her. I didn’t mean to do it and I know it was impulsive and I’m not supposed to do things like that, but I had to. Ricky didn’t care. He understood,” she said all in one breath.
A huge grin spread across my face. Somebody up there likes me. “That’s the best news I’ve heard all day. Heck, all month. Where did she go?”
“Please don’t tell Phillip.” Her little nose wrinkled with dislike. “He’ll tell my parents and they’ll think I’m off my meds. I’m not. I’m taking them. I am.”
I took her hand and squeezed it. “I won’t tell anyone. I swear to you on my mother’s head. I won’t tell a soul.”
“Okay,” she whispered. “They’re always watching me, waiting for me to screw up.”
I imagined there’d been quite a few screw ups in the past, but this wasn’t a screw up by any means. “Where did she go, Gina?”
She pulled her cellphone out of her robe pocket, typed something in, and gave it to me. “I don’t exactly know. It was my first time to Paris, but I bet you can figure it out from the cross streets.”
I didn’t need to look at the cross streets. I knew exactly where that cab went. “Place des Vosges.”
Gina scooted over and peered at the screen. “Is that what it’s called? I loved it. So beautiful.”
Place des Vosges was a square in the Marais district, an area known for old world elegance, shopping, and falafel. Searching the Marais for Angela would be my pleasure.
“It’s a gorgeous area. So did she go to an apartment or a shop?” I asked.
Gina’s face fell. “I lost them.” She pointed at a set of three stone arches. “They got out of the cab and went through there. I followed, but I couldn’t find them. There was a restaurant and lots of people picnicking.”
“Not ideal, but I can definitely work with that.” I had her send all her pictures to the Fibonacci phone.
“Do you think you can find Angela?” asked Gina.
“I’ll do my best and, between you and me, I’m not half bad at this stuff.”
Her eyes filled with fresh tears. “Thank you. I’ve lived with this for so long. I thought that if only I had followed her to the dance floor…”
“Whatever happened, it’s not your fault.” I didn’t point out the obvious. If Angela wasn’t kidnapped and murdered, she left and stayed away of her own volition. She put her family through hell. I wasn’t a fan, but Gina loved Angela and wanted her back. I’d try to give her what she wanted but knowing what really happened would have a new, painful price.
“That’s what I tell myself, but I was there. I should’ve done something.”
“You couldn’t have known. Tell me how Angela’s relationship with Phillip was,” I said.
She lifted one shoulder and twisted her mouth. “It was okay.”
“You don’t like him?”
“Phillip is…I don’t know…kind of cold. He handles everything like it’s a business deal. If Angela wanted to do something and it wasn’t logical, she couldn’t do it. He likes facts, not feelings.”
“Is that why he didn’t believe you?” I asked.
Gina rolled her eyes. “He’s not going to believe you unless you come back with DNA, fingerprints, and an affidavit.”
“No pressure,” I said. “Is that why Angela got a little wild that night?”
“I don’t know. It wasn’t like her at all. Angela was very conservative. I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it.”
“You didn’t think she’d have an affair then?”
“I didn’t before that night. She was always the good one. My parents practically worshipped her. I was the hot mess.”
She went on to describe growing up with Angela. Gina was the wild one, always in trouble, sex early and often, drugs and alcohol. Angela was the honor student, cheerleader, the designated driver, the one who Gina counted on to get her out of her many scrapes. Nothing Gina said fit what happened that night in Chicago. I totally would’ve bought it if it’d been Gina who disappeared, but it wasn’t. Sure, Angela’d been a typical girl, falling wildly in and out of love. Sometimes she acted like a fool. But those were boys she dated. Angela never did anything impetuous. She insisted, even in high school, that dates were formal affairs, dinner and a movie, etc. She never hooked up. When she was a married woman, she was as Calpurnia described her, devoted to her children. Something wasn’t right. This was not a woman to make out with a complete stranger and leave her sister, her unstable sister, alone in another city. Nor was she the type to abandon the children she adored. No. Something definitely wasn’t right.
Phillip met me at the door, wearing a navy suit and tie at ten o’clock on a Saturday morning. The six years showed in his face, haggard and worn with care. He shook my hand and led me to the formal living room. The centerpiece was a baby grand piano covered in family photos. Angela was among them, smiling at her graduation, on her wedding day, and holding newborns. Phillip might be trying to move on, but he hadn’t forgotten her.
I sat on the sofa and he took a tufted wingback chair. A woman with short blonde hair popped her head in and asked, “Can I get you anything? Iced teas? Lemonade?”
“No, thank you,” said Phillip so stiff I was surprised he didn’t
creak.
I smiled and shook my head no and then turned back to Phillip. “I get the feeling you’re not thrilled about this.”
“Calpurnia is doing Gina a favor and you’re repaying one. I understand the situation.”
“You wish she’d left it alone?” I asked.
“It’s pointless to wish.” Phillip sat ramrod straight and watched me, but they weren’t cold eyes. They were filled with sorrow and self-restraint. He wasn’t what I expected from Gina’s description. He was reserved, but he cared deeply. It radiated off him and he could barely stand to go through this again, to talk about what happened when it was so close to being over.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
His grey eyes widened slightly. “Are you? Why? This is what you do.”
“I’m a nurse, not a private investigator. I don’t enjoy digging into your sorrow.”
“I appreciate that, but can we get this over with?” he said.
I asked him the standard questions. Phillip’s statement jived with what I’d been told. Angela wasn’t the type to do what she did. The marriage was solid and so forth.
“Miss Watts, I don’t know what else to say. I don’t know anything. The police never found anything,” he said.
I put my elbows on my knees and clasped my hands under my chin, pondering if I should ask what I really wanted to ask.
“Miss Watts?”
“Do you believe Angela’s dead?” It came out quickly and surprised him, but it didn’t surprise me.
Phillip jumped at the bluntness, but answered without hesitation. “Yes. She has to be.”
“Why does she have to be?”
He stood up and went to the window, staring out at the long green lawn. “Because nothing else makes sense.”
“What happened that night doesn’t make sense,” I said.
He didn’t look at me again. “I know, but Angela isn’t in Paris. It’s not something she would do.”
“What do you mean?”
Phillip sighed, still not looking at me. “She wouldn’t travel abroad. Angela wasn’t an adventurous person. She didn’t have a passport. Nobody in her family did.”
“Gina has one,” I said. “She went to Paris.”
“Because of her new husband. That’s the only reason.” Phillip turned away. He was done.
I excused myself and left, feeling his sadness weighing on me as I went out the door to my truck. The blond woman came out the front door and waved at me. I stopped and she closed the door quietly and came over to me.
“Hi. I’m Dara, Phil’s girlfriend,” she said.
Interesting. She was the first to call him that. He was Phillip to everyone else, including himself.
“I’m Mercy Watts.” I shook her hand.
“Can I talk to you for a second?”
“Of course. Do you have something to tell me about Angela?” I asked.
Dara shook her head. “No. I never met her. I only wanted you to know he’s not what he seems.”
“Phillip?”
“He comes off as cold and uncaring, but he’s really sweet and loving on the inside.”
“How did you two meet?”
“I was Madison’s third grade teacher. We met three years after it happened. I adore those kids. I can’t have any of my own and they’ve made my life complete.” She blushed. “That sounds silly, I know.”
“It doesn’t sound silly at all. It’s lovely that they have you,” I said. “Is there anything else?”
She bit her lip. “I wanted to ask you if you think it could be true that Angela’s alive?”
“It’s possible, but I wouldn’t bet the farm on it.”
Dara laughed nervously. “Phil doesn’t believe Gina because of her illness.”
“What do you think?”
“I think it would kill him if she’s alive.”
I leaned back against the truck. “Why?”
“He trusted her completely. He can barely deal with the fact that she went off with that guy and got herself killed. If she ran off…”
“He trusted her completely? I got the impression from Gina that they weren’t that close.”
“Well, they weren’t, not like us.” Dara put her hand on her heart. “I said we had to go to therapy or it was over. He wouldn’t talk or share anything, but now he does. It took a long time though.”
“If they weren’t that close, why did he trust her?” I asked. “Wives can cheat like husbands do.”
“Don’t tell anyone I said this, but Phil says that Angela never had an ounce of imagination. None at all. He didn’t think it would occur to her to do something wrong. That’s why he was so comfortable being married to her.”
I frowned. Comfortable?
“Everybody wants to be comfortable with their spouse,” I said.
“Yes, but I can only say this because of who you are.”
“Who I am?”
“You work for them, too,” said Dara and her voice turned to a whisper. “The Fibonaccis. It’s important to be discreet and Angela was certainly that. Don’t get me wrong. Phil’s on the right side of the family.” Her voice lowered until I could barely hear her. “The legal side.”
“I understand.” I offered my hand again and Dara shook it. “Thanks for your help.”
“I didn’t want you to think that he didn’t care.”
“I understand and I could tell that he cared.”
She thanked me and watched as I drove down the long drive with her forehead in a frown. Now I didn’t want to find Angela in Paris. Dara didn’t deserve that. But then there were Gina and Angela’s parents. I slammed my hands on the steering wheel. “That’s just great. Somebody’s got to lose.”
Why did I have the feeling that it was going to be me?
Chapter Six
An hour later, I sat at Café Déjeuner, waiting for Spidermonkey to show up. Spidermonkey was my go-to cyber sleuth. He was as good as Uncle Morty but smelled a lot better. I read the Wall Street Journal that they kept on hand for him and sipped an iced mocha. I wanted to scour the internet for information on Angela’s disappearance, but I didn’t dare. Uncle Morty’d been known to get into my phone and root around under the guise of thwarting the occasional stalker, but it was really under my mother’s orders. After the Costillas put a hit out on me, she worried more than usual. She was afraid someone would figure out how to track me and that they’d try again. I wasn’t worried because I had Calpurnia Fibonacci on my side, but Mom didn’t know that.
Spidermonkey used his considerable skills to make our calls and texts look like I was talking to my friend, Ellen. Morty didn’t want to know what we went on about so it was a great cover.
Unfortunately, Uncle Morty wouldn’t avoid my internet searches like he did girl talk. If Morty saw that I was looking into Angela, he’d put it together. He was the only one who seemed to doubt that my all-powerful father was the one to get the Costillas off me. I had to be very careful that absolutely nothing connected me to Calpurnia.
The bell on the door jingled and Spidermonkey walked in. He was striking with his silver hair and lime green polo. He ordered a black coffee in a lilting South Carolina accent and made Sally, the barista, smile.
She gave him his coffee and flicked a glance at me and rolled her eyes as he went through the pantomime of not knowing me but sitting together because there wasn’t room anywhere else. He wasn’t fooling Sally. She’d seen us together enough and probably thought we were having an affair. I had to admit it did look that way.
“Is this seat taken?” he asked.
I snorted. “Well, I was waiting for someone, but go ahead handsome stranger sit down.”
“Mercy,” he whispered. “We don’t know each other.”
“Yeah, we’re stealthy.”
“Morty could happen by and see you sitting here with me. If he questioned the staff—”
“Let me stop you right there. Sally thinks we’re having an affair and Uncle Morty never comes down to Laclede’s Landi
ng. He thinks it’s full of hipsters and idiots.”
Spidermonkey glanced at a table with four guys, all sporting man buns. “It is.”
“Plus, Melvin’s in town.”
“Oh, it’s that time of year. Is he hiding at your parents’?” he asked.
“My apartment, actually.”
Spidermonkey made a face. “No wonder you wanted to meet today.”
I stirred my mocha with a straw. “That, and I have a situation.”
“A situation that you need my expertise for?”
“If you’ll take the job.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
“Wait until you hear what it is.”
I told Spidermonkey that Calpurnia had called in her marker and exactly what I was expected to do. He sat back, listening in his calm way.
“What do you think?’ I asked.
“How far are you?”
I gave him my leads: Place des Vosges and the man that the possible Angela had been with as well as a rundown of my interviews.
“Are you going to interview friends or her parents?” he asked.
“I don’t see the point. So will you help me on this?” I didn’t have a backup plan if he said no, but I couldn’t do it without help.
He smiled and waved to Sally, indicating that he needed more coffee. “Of course, I will.”
I got dizzy with relief. “Really?”
Sally poured Spidermonkey’s coffee and raised an eyebrow at me. “Anything?”
Hunger hit me hard. I’d gone out without eating. Calpurnia’s mission did nothing for the appetite, but the smell of all the pastries woke up my taste buds. “What’s good?”
She grinned. “Everything, but I’d have the lemon poppyseed cruller.”
“Make it two,” I said.
Sally headed for the pastry display and Spidermonkey said, “I hope you plan on eating both of those.”
“I’m back to normal.” I’d lost a lot of weight after I’d killed Richard Costilla. Guilt is a dangerous thing, but I’d evened out my karma by saving a life at Cairngorms Castle and was back on donuts and happiness.
“Does that mean that you’re modeling for DBD again?” asked Spidermonkey.
